


A Second Life, It Ain't So Bad

by killajokejosie



Category: McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys In Love, Brotherhood, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Ice Cream, Idiots in Love, It's John's Fault, John's twisted humor, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Macca's fantastic eyebrows, Paul has issues, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Top John, damaged john, small town
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 63,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killajokejosie/pseuds/killajokejosie
Summary: https://8tracks.com/killajokejackson/a-second-lifeJust a little something that has way less Beatles music on it than I wanted, but rules and junk...





	1. This

**Author's Note:**

> https://8tracks.com/killajokejackson/a-second-life
> 
> Just a little something that has way less Beatles music on it than I wanted, but rules and junk...

He was just a sophomore in high school at the time. It was close to the end of the school year, no more than three full days remaining, and that meant he was going to have to find a job somewhere in the stupid town in attempt to save money for the car he so obviously did not have. 

That left him with two options, work at a farm, or work with food. That was it. Nothing else. Adults had a hard enough time finding work there, so there was already slim pickings. 

For some dumb reason, food seemed like the best option. And, considering how badly he did not want to work with the ridiculous popular kids who often spent a far amount of their time making his life miserable, he had to opt for the most dingy and run down of the two restaurants that sat directly across the street from each other. The constant battle for customers always seeing the light of day, a back and forth rivalry that boiled down to appearance and food, and he stupidly decided he wanted to be in the middle of it. 

He walked inside with the intention of grabbing a paper application, very aware that the older restaurant still had them. The entire dining area had a sort of stale smell to it, one that he had grown used to with all of the times that he had walked up there with his little brother, Mike, since it was the cheapest when it came to dinner. Since their father was working nights at the factory during that time, he was often too tired to go grocery shopping, leaving them without food in the house. This place had always been closer, it only had made sense. 

He sighed, feeling a bit strange standing there in the middle of the tiled part of the dining room. He had spent far more time in it than he cared to admit, knowing most of the older workers on a first name basis. Every single day for months out of the year it had been a sad second home, at least, until their father had been moved to the first shift, allowing him the chance to be home for dinner.

He inhaled that all too familiar scent, the one caused by their fanciest piece of equipment. Despite it being the newest thing the poor store had acquired, the machine consistently leaked and was constantly being serviced while he was there. It was kind of a shame, really.

He approached the counter, only to have someone breeze right beside him and jump up onto it. 

"John! What are you doing?! What have I told you!?" A young woman with caramel blonde hair shouted at the man that had leapt up onto the counter with ease. She had looked familiar, but it had been a long time since he had seen her face.

The converse and ripped jean wearing guy spun around and jumped down on the other side, putting himself right in front of the woman. "Didn't you hear? We are equals now, Cyn, and you don't get to boss me around. You're talking to management here."

"You are lucky I love you, and don't want to close this damn place every night or I would ensure that your ass was fired today,"

John, as Paul had assumed his name was at this point, laughed, pulling his round lens sunglasses off of his face. "You wouldn't dare, even if you could, you know we both need money if we are ever going to get..." He stopped talking immediately, realizing that there was someone standing at the counter, waiting. 

He backed away from the woman, turning his attention to the young man before them. "Whatcha need, but? You orderin' something?"

Paul shook his head. "No, I was hoping that I could get an application, actually, sorry," 

"Oh, oh, okay, can do that," John said, almost nervous in tone, disappearing around the corner for a moment, returning with the requested paper in just as much time. "Here."

Paul accepted the slightly damaged application. "Thanks,"

"No problem, say, what's your name again?"

"I hadn't said it before, actually, name is Paul,"

"Paul, eh? Hm, I like it. Think it means humble or somethin'. Well, maybe I will be seeing you around?"

"Yeah, maybe,"

***

John had already decided that today was skip out on life day. He was already done with school, and he graduated despite all of the teachers who claimed that it would never happen, but that didn't help him get out of working at the job that he very clearly fucking hated. 

To hell with everything else.

He was even happier with his decision when it came to the realization that he wouldn't be seeing Cyn all day. It played a huge part in his skip out on life day celebration. He wanted to make money, but not if it involved her. Why the fuck would he have wanted to deal with her being exhausting as hell, anyways? It was not as if she really did all that much for him in the long run. The longer they were going to be apart, the better. Any predetermined amount of time apart would never be enough.

Thinking about her left him struggling to remember how the two ended up together in the first place. She wasn't his type, in more ways than one, and she never failed to push his buttons on a regular basis. 

Finally, he left his aunt's house, walking to the closest park near it. It was barely noon, but even still, he needed something to do. 

***

There were very few people out walking about due to the massive heat index that had blessed the town over the past few days. It certainly helped that it was a weekday on top of that. John laid on the grass under the large trees, taking solace in the fact that even in the extreme warmth of midday, it was peaceful. If he stayed still long enough he would probably pass out right there, despite how harmful it would have likely been to his overall health.

He heard footsteps approaching, putting him on alert as the person neared his private little spot. Before he opened his eyes he ran through multiple scenarios, assuming an on foot police officer was about to make sure that he wasn't dead, or homeless, or high on something other than the run of the mill shit. It happened one time last summer, and now no one could sit down alone in that park without being questioned.

He sat up and put his sunglasses on top of his head, making eye contact with the most incredible hazel eyes he had ever seen. The young man standing above him was no officer of the law, it was simply Paul.

"Fancy meeting you here, speaking of which, shouldn't you be in school or something? Ain't it the last day for the underclassmen?" John asked, sitting up.

"Oh," Paul mumbled nervously with his hand on the back of his pale neck. "I actually didn't go, not much going on, anyways, I didn't have any exams because of my advanced classes,"

"Well, don't just stand there, Paul, sit down," John demanded, patting the ground beside him. He didn't know the kid very well, but something in his eyes told him that he should make the effort.

Paul sat cross legged, head cradled in his hands. John couldn't help, but get lost in those big doe eyes, loving those long eyelashes that fluttered over them in such a fantastic way. The arch of his eyebrows as he stared at him with a bizarre curiosity did him in a little further. Boys that looked like Paul were the exact reason that he could never spend his life with someone like Cynthia.

Beauty like that was painful.

"I probably really shouldn't stay long, my father doesn't like me leaving my little brother alone very long. I only wanted to get a quick walk in before he got home. Needed to get out of the house. I didn't mean to interrupt you, either. I'm sorry." Paul rambled.

John grabbed Paul by the arm, his most genuine smile plastered on his stupid face. "No worries, seriously, we should get to know each other a little better, anyways, since we are going to be working together."

"Am I hired, then? I haven't even heard back from anyone just yet."

"Yeah, well, I put in a good word for ya, seemed nice enough, seen you with your...brother...in there before."

Paul's incredible hazel eyes lit up, accenting all of the gorgeous flecks of gold and green within them. "You did? You really didn't have to."

"Nah," John winked. "It was my pleasure,"

Paul felt a tingle where John's hand had been on his arm. His breath hitched. He could not figure out what it was about John's presence, but he made him feel calm, strangely at ease. He liked it.

"I should probably get going," Paul whispered, beginning to shift his legs so he could stand.

John jumped up and helped Paul back to his feet. "Let me walk with ya, got nothin' better to do,"

"Huh?"

"Let me walk ya home,"

"You really don't have to do that," Paul mumbled, scuffing one of his feet against the ground. He already felt incredibly awkward when interacting with people on a daily basis, John was not helping. He couldn't put a pin on it, but there was something so mesmerizing his intensity, the way his eyes seared into him. It would be so easy for the older boy to take yet another step closer.

"Seriously? Don't fight me on this, kid, just lead the way. I will force you to walk arm in arm with me if you don't, right down to church street." John pressed further, knowing that he wouldn't be able to let someone that hauntingly beautiful out of his sight, at least not until he got his full name. 

Paul nodded, appearing a bit nervous again. John was only a few inches away from him, and with each breath it only seemed to be making matters worse.

"Alright, then, as I said, lead the way," John used command in his tone instead of his usual lighthearted voice. Paul needed to hear him that way, or they were going to wind up standing there, facing each other well into the early hours of the evening.

Paul kept himself from continuing to nod, the only way he could seem to communicate with John effectively. He wiped the sweat off of his forehead before heading toward the main sidewalk with John only a few steps behind him. 

"So, kid, you live here your whole life?"

"Yeah, we have had three art classes together since I started high school, but you are an upperclassmen and popular, and I kinda just blend in,"

John laughed. Paul really enjoyed that lovely sound. It was the most real one he had ever heard. It only added to John's overall strange intrigue. "Believe me, the last thing you are capable of is blending in. I am going to blame not ever really noticing you on my bad eyesight, but it probably has something more to do with how little I paid attention to anything or anyone in school."

"Kind of a shame, isn't it? The world is actually not half bad if you stop to look around at it, some of it is actually rather enchanting."

A wicked half smile creeped its way onto John's semi sunburnt face. "I know all about things that are enchanting, as a matter of fact,"

"Right, right, with your pretty girlfriend, she is really very pretty," Paul replied, unfortunately bringing up the one person that John did not care to be thinking about.

John tapped a finger against Paul's shoulder. "Cynthia...is definitely not the kind of enchanting to which I chose to refer..."

"I see,"

John chuckled, pulling his hand back. "I am guessing that you really don't?"

"Care to elaborate for me then?" Paul asked, walking backwards in front of John. He was actually quite interesting to look at. His sharp features and auburn hair coming together to make someone who was undeniably attractive. 

Those thoughts he had, where he always kind of wondered what it would be like to kiss another guy came front and center. It wasn't like he had much experience with anyone, but he would be lying if he said he was not a bit interested in John. 

John. Even his name struck a chord. 


	2. See It My Way

They continued to walk together, getting closer and closer to Paul's home. The closer they got, the easier it was to see why sweet Paul had spent so much time at the restaurant, it was literally right near the road that lead to his house. 

"So, uh, you got any other siblings besides your brother?" John asked, now the one walking in front of Paul. They had been switching places rather frequently, always wanting to get a better look at the other.

"Nope, just the one brother. His name is Mike. I don't think my parents had any others mostly because of money, maybe...and then because my mother died..." Paul trailed off, head dropping down as he spoke.

"Oh...I'm sorry, how'd she die?" John asked without thinking about how it standed.

"Breast cancer, spread pretty fast, she tried to keep it from us, but eventually my father forced it out into the open. He said we could handle it. He was wrong." Paul blinked a few times to bite back the tears. He refused to cry in front of John. He just wouldn't do it.

John saw the amount of emotion in Paul's face, could hear it in his voice. "I'm sorry, really, I am, shouldn't have pressed like that,"

"It's alright," Paul muttered. "It just hasn't been that long, is all, not used to talking about it, especially with someone I barely know,"

"Strangely enough, I know what you mean, actually. My mom, she wasn't really much of a mom, I guess, wasn't around much and when she finally was I realized exactly why my aunt didn't want her raising me, she just wasn't all there, ya know? Nothing was ever enough for her, not even me. I have a few sisters that I barely know, all younger, I think." John took a deep breath, running his hands over his face. "Just when I thought things were going to be okay, started to have a legitimate relationship, stopped calling her by her first name...she got hit by a drunk driver, a cop of all people."

Paul pressed the button on the crosswalk. He wanted to say something, anything that was comforting. He wanted to grab John and pull him into a warm embrace. The pain of loss that they both knew so well was so clear, so visible in that moment. Never in a million years would he have imagined to meet someone who would share that unfortunate bond.

"You are just staring off into space, did I say something wrong?" John asked, breaking the sudden and wholly uncomfortable silence.

Paul shook himself out of his daze. "No, no, was just thinking, been a while since I spoke about her, promise,"

"Good, cause the light says we can walk now," John chuckled, practically skipping across the road like a moron, trying to find an escape from the images in his mind.

It took Paul a moment to realize what was happening, quickly running after the older boy just before the crosswalk light had changed.

Paul lived pretty close to the restaurant, as John had already guessed on their walk, but it was even closer to the large grocery store that was positioned in perfect view of the expressway. As the two walked further into the cluster of moderately nice looking modular homes John began to wonder how often he had actually passed Paul's home. He knew quite a few people in the neighborhood, including the guy who sold him the best weed in town.

And yet, somehow he still didn't know Paul before he started coming to the restaurant. It was really a pity how blind he was.

"Ta, still will be a while before he gets home, if he even gets home when he is supposed to," Paul half mumbled when he laid eyes on the empty driveway on the right side of the house.

"Did we rush all this way for nothing?" John asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"No, I still had to be here for Mike Our dad really doesn't want either of us alone but Mike especially. After our mom died he ended up in therapy, tons of grief groups, stuff I might have needed if I didn't have to constantly deal with being in charge when our dad was at work." Paul explained, fishing in his pockets for his keys. "Do you wanna come inside?"

John's lips parted, but he couldn't produce enough sound to form even one sensible word. He definitely wanted to go inside, however, for a number of absolutely ridiculous reasons.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, I understand if you have somewhere to be," Paul said, mentally kicking himself for even asking the question in the first place.

"Nope, nowhere to go, let's go inside, tour the tan palace that you've been locked up in,"

Paul scoffed. "Not sure what you mean by that, John,"

"Unlock the damn door, Princess,"

Paul rolled his eyes, feeling oddly compelled to refer to John as a prince, but chickening out of the fear of being too awkward. "After you,"

John stepped inside, shocked at the layout and the decor of just the kitchen that he could se. Then he remembered that it had not been that long since Paul's mother had passed and she was probably the reason it looked that way. 

Paul walked past him over to the magnet loaded black refrigerator. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Yeah, whatever is cold, I'm still dyin', it is way too hot out there,"

The younger boy leaned into the fridge just enough so that John had a perfect view of his pert little ass. He bit down on one of his fingers to keep himself from making a noise, feeling almost dirty about what he was doing. He really couldn't help it.

When Paul stood back up he quickly readjusted his gaze, desperately trying to appear as though he might have been looking at a yellow Star Trek coffee mug located in the dish drainer instead.

"I know it is early, but I could use a bit of a relaxer," Paul began, setting four tiny shot sized bottles of Jack Daniel's on the counter. "But you don't have to, if you don't want to,"

"It's five o'clock somewhere, right? Besides, I'd be fucking stupid to turn down free booze, no matter what time of day."

Paul handed John one of the bottles before picking up one for himself. "Well then, bottoms up,"

After they each had their two, Paul went back into the fridge to grab thirds. John hopped up onto the counter beside him, kicking the cupboards below him. Paul handed him another bottle, eyes locked directly onto his. He was lost in them immediately, the very slight buzz doing nothing to help his case. He quickly caught his breath and managed to look away before Paul said anything.

"So, how are you allowed to drink like this, ya lush?" John asked curiously, realizing that Paul was reaching for more bottles.

"Ha, I'm a sixteen-year-old with no mother, a father who works all of the time, and a little brother who still has a hard time fending for himself, you do the math?"

"But obviously this isn't your liquor, won't someone notice that it is gone?"

"Oh, did I say 'father who works all of the time'? Because if I didn't, that is part one of the answer. Also, he's practically a drunk, you should see everything that isn't being kept cold. I'm the one who put these ones in the fridge, anyways."

"You're kinda sassy there, eh?"

Paul shrugged. "I'll blame it on the Jack,"

John's phone started ringing, startling him into almost falling off of the counter. He whipped the device out of his pocket to see who had wanted his attention. It was Cynthia. He accidentally let out an audible groan while he purposefully silenced the call with no intentions of hearing her voice or explaining why he wasn't going to work. He had already gone through the proper channels that did not involve her and allowed him to not show up, he didn't need to hear her complain on top of that.

"I should probably make an effort to see if Mike is home yet," Paul said in a cute, half slurred voice. The rapid succession of which they drank their bottles of whiskey was doing him in. 

When Paul left the room John let his eyes wander. He hated having to ask all of the dumb questions usually involved with getting to know someone. He hoped he might be able to gather at least some basic information from the papers held up by magnets. 

In less than a minute he had discovered that Paul's last name was McCartney, his first name was actually James, and that he kept the receipt for his relatively new bass. On top of all of that, he knew that Paul was a pretty good student, but not as good as his younger brother who had been portrayed as the messed up one.

Even with it being such a small amount of information, he felt like he knew so much more than before. Ridiculously adorable Paul McCartney was an interesting creature, and John only wanted to know more.

"Are you enjoying your reading material?" Paul asked, making John jump, again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just didn't have anything else to do, it just sort of happened. Please forgive me, Macca." John said, hoping the kid wouldn't be too freaked out. He wasn't really sure where the nickname came from.

"It is okay...Macca? Why did you call me that?"

"You know, Mac, Macca, because your last name has that sort of Mc thing,"

"Ah, well, that's good because I thought you were making some obscure reference to McDonald's and I wasn't going to have that."

"Now I am the one who is confused. What the hell are you talking about?"

Paul chewed on his bottom lip while he messed with his phone, typing lightning fast. "Here,"

John took the phone, staring at the screen with his eyebrows raised. Sure as shit, Macca was the name used for McDonald's in Australia after a rebranding thing. It made sense, too, seeing as how McDonald's also had the same Mc lettering at the beginning.

"Alright then, I'll just start callin' ya Australian McDonald's, sure that will turn some heads,"

"Hard pass,"

"Macca it is, then," John chuckled, wrapping an arm around Paul's shoulders. "Even more important: when were you gonna tell me that you play bass?"

"I...uh...what? You never asked?"

"That wasn't what I wanted to hear, I'm being serious, when were you going to tell me?"

Paul shrugged. "Uh...if it ever came up, I guess? Should I have told you that I play the piano, also?"

John's eyes bugged out. "For real? What? I can barely play the guitar and you can play two instruments? What the heck?"

"Actually, three, seeing as to the fact that I can also play the guitar," Paul added, speaking much softer than before.

John grabbed both of Paul's arms. "Can you...can you teach me?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess,"

"Great! I have tomorrow off, for real not just playing hooky, and you haven't been hired yet, it is perfect. Happy first day of summer!"

The front door opened suddenly, a thin man with unique eyebrows stepped through the threshold. His intense stare forced John to jump down off of his perch on the counter and caused Paul's back to straighten. Jim McCartney was never home this early.

"Hi...dad," Paul said with a simple wave, knowing full well that his father was more interested in the amount of empty liquor bottles and the strange older boy who had been sitting on his clean countertop.

"Hello, Paul, is your brother home?"

Paul nodded. "Yep, in his room, jerkin' off or playing video games, I don't know, it all sounds the same to me."

John smothered a laugh. His aunt Mimi would have already smacked him twice if he had said anything like that. Here Paul's dad was acting like he didn't even hear it.

"And, who is this?" Jim asked, gesturing towards John who was now chewing on his lip. "This boy who I've never seen before in my kitchen..."

This is John..." Paul stopped, realizing he didn't know his last name.

"Lennon. John Lennon. Pleased to meet you." John said with his hand out in proper greeting.

Jim accepted the handshake. "John, hm. Pleasure is all mine. Name is Jim, I am Paul's father, the one who had no idea there would be anyone in his house when he got home."

"You're home early," Paul noted, receiving a concerned look from his father.

"And the two of you have been drinking...probably good I came home,"

"Uh...I better head out, my aunt will probably start to wonder where I am." John lied, but he had to remove himself from the extremely awkward situation. What was Jim even implying with those words? "I'll text ya tomorrow, eh?"

"Yeah, sure, wait, you have my number?"

"Ch...I accepted your app, duh,"

"Have a good day, John," Jim threw in at the end as the young man stumbled out the door.

Paul grumbled. The next conversation he had with his father was going to be so horribly strange.  


	3. I Feel Fine

John threw himself down on his aunt's sofa the moment he walked in the door, relieved by the temperature of the room. He constantly prayed to the grand creator of central air units. His walk home was equally as hot as his walk to Paul's house, reminding him how stupid he was for even being outside in that heat. The worst part was how fast he had managed to sweat off his buzz. 

His aunt walked in from the kitchen, hands on her hips. Her dark hair was up in a bun that really served to make her look even more angry with him. He could not wait to hear what she had to say this time.

"How many times have I told you not to throw yourself down on my furniture like that? You'll ruin it." Mimi asked him, voice actually a lot calmer than he was expecting.

"A million times, if I had to guess," John chuckled, putting on his most charming smile. Even if she was really mad at him underneath, he knew it wouldn't last long if he buttered her up.

"And, would you sit up like a normal human being? My goodness, it is as if I have raised you to be nothing, but a hooligan."

"Well..." John started a phony defense, ready to pull out all of the stops if he had to.

Mimi shook her head. "You are horrible, absolutely horrible. What am I going to do with you?" She paused, glancing up at the large clock on the wall. "Aren't you supposed to be at work right now?"

"Yeah, but I am here,"

Mimi resisted an eye roll directed towards her nephew. She accepted his behavior for the most part, but that did not mean that she didn't question it. He was far more like his mother than she had hoped he would be.

John smiled at his phone, pretty satisfied with himself for making his first real message to Paul a meme from The Office. 

"Just what on that phone has got you in such a good mood?" Mimi asked, after sitting down in her favorite chair.

John blushed. "I think I am in love,"

Mimi raised her eyebrows. "Well, I should hope so with as much time that you spend with Cynthia,"

"Yeah...I am not talking about Cyn, actually. I think I found my soulmate today."

She took a deep breath, measuring her options, knowing full well what might happen if she said the wrong thing. They hadn't fought in so long that she did not dare to risk it. "When do I get to meet this one, John?"

John shrugged. "Not sure yet. I have to see if he is interested first,"

"Oh, right, fair enough," She mumbled as John made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. Only after he was out of earshot did she fully acknowledge what he had actually said to her. "Wait, he?"

***

The following day the heatwave broke, slightly. it was somewhat comfortable to be outside as long as people were dressed for it. The change in the weather presented itself as the perfect opportunity for John to get Paul to have their lesson outside in the larger park across from the high school. It was in just the right spot, and he didn't think it would be very crowded.

When Paul arrived at the small pavilion in between the soccer fields John made the terrible mistake of looking up at him. In a stark contrast to the usual jeans and t-shirts that he had typically seen him wearing, he was wearing a white button up with a black tie, sleeves rolled up, and some of the tightest black slacks money could buy. Added in with the way the sun was shining around him, black wayfarer glasses up on top of his head John was done for. And, it hadn't even been a minute.

Paul also managed to make him feel like he was underdressed.

"Aren't you a little too pop rock to be dressed like that?"

Paul chuckled. "Clearly I should have kept my blazer on. Without it, I have kind of ruined my goth punk Elvis aesthetic."

"Are you sure you go to school here? Because you sound way too educated to have had such a shitty education." John asked with a wink as he pulled his guitar out of its case.

"Perhaps, it is an illusion?" Paul said, still chuckling to himself as he took a seat on top of one of the tables.

John swallowed hard. He could not make prolonged eye contact with Paul without it seeming a bit odd. The only problem with his current object of focus was that Paul's lips were equally distracting, especially when he imagined what they were really capable of. He could already tell the this lesson was going to be excruciating.

"Alright, Macca, do your worst," John pleaded, tapping his hands against the body of his instrument.

"Here goes nothing," Paul mumbled, already deciding that he needed to find something else to think about besides how cute he thought John was. He flipped the guitar to fit more comfortably in his hands, proud to show off his dominant left.

Paul warmed up his fingers, strumming lightly on the chords until the sound began to resemble a legitimate bunch of notes. It wasn't long before he was simply showboating, secretly enjoying the intense look in John's eyes while he played.

John happened to be a quick learner, when he wanted to be. Now was not one of those times. He was determined to keep this going for as long as possible. The more time he spent with Paul, the better. He would milk the clock until the very end.

"You have to do it like this," Paul said, repeating the same motion he had demonstrated at least four times prior.

"Like this?" John asked, playing the note perfectly, almost as if he had known what to do the first time, a pattern that had happened consistently over the past hour.

"Yes! That! Exactly! Perfect! Do That!" Paul almost squealed, relieved that they would be able to move on.

"I say we call it quits for today, can go get ice cream or food or whatever downtown." John suggested.

"What about our guitars? Won't it be hard to carry them all of that way?"

"My house is closer than yours, we could always throw them in my car and drive wherever we want to go?"

Paul sighed, thankful that he wasn't going to suffer again. He had already lugged the damn thing all the way there from his house, he was not trying to do that again. "Thank you,"

"My..." John trailed off, catching something out of the corner of his eyes, or rather someone.

Cynthia. And, he had been doing such a swell job of avoiding her.

"John!" She called as soon as she realized that it was him, waving frantically from the baseball diamond as she approached.

"Great," He grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

Cynthia finally reached the pavilion where they were seated, wavering between being happy to see her boyfriend and angry that he dared to spend any time with someone else.

"I thought that you were too busy to see me today," She crossed her arms over her chest, tone echoing the accusatory nature of her words.

"I am too busy to see you today. I have plans with Paul, as you can see. The two of us are spending the day together." John explained.

Cynthia raised her eyebrows at Paul. Paul, who was a little effeminate and ha eyebrows that ere just a little too perfect. She would have been stupid not to realize just how pleasing he was to the eye, but he was still just a sixteen year old boy.

"Yes, Paul, I remember him," She said in a monotone, scanning the length of the younger boy's body.

"Okay, well, the two of us are actually leaving. We are going off on an adventure, probably taking my car downtown. So, um, we will be seeing ya'." John stood up, giving Cynthia a quick peck on the lips before beginning to walk away.

"Are you seriously ditching me for this...this kid?!" Cynthia shouted, stomping her shoe hard into the ground, alerting her friends over by the diamond that she was definitely angry.

"Rude!" John yelled back. "I am allowed to have a life, ya know? Keep that attitude up and maybe I'll marry that redhead, Alex, instead, eh?"

Cynthia didn't respond, choosing instead to shoot daggers at him with her death stare. She stormed off, leaving John to just shrug it off as if nothing had happened and continue on his way. She probably wanted to tell him to go to hell, but he was pretty sure that he would make it there on his own, without her damnation. 


	4. Do I Have To Keep Talking?

The pair made their way to John's house. John wasn't going to bother to go inside, knowing that his aunt Mimi would end up asking Paul hundreds of ridiculous questions. But, of course, Mimi parked behind him, forcing their interaction, despite his best efforts.

He pounded on the door until she stepped outside, bewildered look on her face.

"Is something wrong?" She asked, making eye contact with Paul instead of her nephew.

"I need ya to move your car so I can drive Paul and his guitar home...eventually..."

Mimi maintained eye contact with Paul. "Perhaps you two could walk, instead?"

"Don't be like that, Mimi, he already had to lug the damn thing all the way to the park. He lies all the way down by the highway, way past the tracks. It is hot out here. That thing is large and kinda heavy."

"I might reconsider should you actually introduce me to your friend friend here,"

John rolled his eyes. He had been doing that more and more lately, even towards her. "Aunt Mimi, this is Paul. Paul, this is my lovely aunt Mimi. Is that good enough?"

"Very nice to meet you, Paul," Mimi said with a smile.

"Nice to meet you, as well. You have very wonderful rose bushes, ma'am. I have not seen any like them since my mother's."

"Thank you very much. I take pride in my gardening. Let me go grab my keys and I'll let you two get on your way." She replied so cheerily that it almost made John cringe. That was not normal for her, not in the slightest. "John, can I speak privately with you for a moment?"

John nodded, quickly following Mimi into the house. 

"Are the two of you being safe? There are lots of diseases out there, some run a little bit more rampant among men. I would hate for you to end up with something that ruins your quality of life." Mimi began.

"Wait. Stop. Stop it, right there. Are you seriously...are you implying...and I've only known Paul for less than a week...oh my god..."

"He is the one you were speaking about the other day, isn't he?"

John nodded. He hadn't really thought that she was paying that much attention.

"Then was I so wrong to assume that you might have been intimate?"

"Less than a week, Mimi, less than a week," John reminded her.

"That is beside the point, I know how things are nowadays,"

"I guess it is nice to know that you are more concerned with my overall safety and health than with the fact that I basically told you I am gay."

"John, I love you and I will no matter what you do or who you love. It is no concern of mine what you want to do in your bedroom. I will treat this relationship the same way that I have treated your relationship with Cynthia."

John took a deep breath. It was hard to believe that his aunt was taking this so well. If he had any idea he would have told her years ago, when he first realized that he was not attracted to women. It would have saved the current issue that was his longtime girlfriend.

"Thank you,"

"There is no need to thank me, John. We are family. You are supposed to be able to talk to me, about anything. Now, let's go move the cars."

"One more thing, uh...can you maybe be a little less awkward on the delivery of embarrassing topics? I'm eighteen, I really do not want to talk about my sex life with you." John asked quietly as they both stepped back outside. 

"I will definitely put that into consideration," Mimi said with a chuckle, unlocking her car and getting inside.

***

"What do you want, Macca? I'm buying." John asked, pulling a twenty out of his wallet.

Paul's big hazel eyes ran across the grand expanse of the local ice cream shop's menu board. He already knew what he wanted, but he didn't want to seem too eager about it. He was also hoping to see his friend George before they left, and the longer it took them to order, the more likely it would be that it happened.

"Macca? You in there? We're next in line." John nudged the pretty boy in the arm as he spoke, amused by his strange expression towards the words on above the cashier's head.

"Oh, right, uh, banana milkshake...no, scratch that, banana malt."

"Banana?" John repeated the word with confusion, head cocked to the side. "Banana?"

"Is there something wrong with bananas that I am not aware of?" Paul asked, roughly grabbing John's arm to increase the dramatic effect of his words.

George walked up to the front counter, huge smile on his face, even as he blew the stray strand of hair out of his face. "Paul! You are alive! Haven't heard from you in days."

"I think that might have been my fault," John admitted. There was a small twinge of jealousy in the pit of his stomach that he found utterly ridiculous, even more so considering that he had taken precedence over this other guy. They were probably just friends, anyways. Just like he and Paul were technically just friends, not that he wasn't going to be working very hard to change that.

George glanced up at John who was just a little bit taller than him, closer to Paul's stature. He recognized him from school, but he never expected to see him with Paul. He looked back over at his friend, trying to understand exactly what was going on.

"How did the two of you become friends?" George finally asked, realizing it sounded rude after the words had already been said.

"We kinda work together, or at least, we will be working together," John told him. "I'm John, by the way, Lennon,"

George nodded. "I'm George, Geo for short. I am one of Paul's oldest friends, although you might not have noticed that seeing as he randomly goes for days without speaking to me, but I guess that is fine. As long as I know he is alive, I'm usually good."

The words George spoke hit John hard from left field. It wasn't anything about them being friends, that was irrelevant. Something had just seemed off, but he couldn't put a finger on it. It could have simply been a coincidence, using that phrase twice, but John definitely did not think so.

Paul shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his cuffed right wrist in a strange way. His eyes darted to the floor, avoiding contact with George or John.

John really didn't like this. And, he already had a knack for getting pissed off when he was out of the loop on something.

George cleared his throat suddenly, pulling everyone back into the present. "The two of you gonna actually order anything so I don't get yelled at by my dad for not doing anything?"

"The fancy left handed freak show to my right wants a..." John began before getting cut off by the young man at the counter.

"Banana milkshake?" 

John shook his head. "Malt, actually," 

George chuckled. "That is downright spooky, is he feeling alright?"

"Pretty sure he is. Hope so."

"Anything for you?"

"Two scoops of chocolate, waffle cone. Do those come dipped? If they do, that is what I want." John told him, beaming, strangely full of pride in that moment. Perhaps, it was because of the way Paul was looking at him, which had something to do with what he had called him.

This boy was determined to be the death of him.

"Perfect, yeah, of course, five dollars," George half mumbled.

"Only five?"

"My parents own this place, Paul has spent so much time with them he is like family. Discounts abound. It is only five."

"Alright then, thanks," John said, enthusiasm level a couple of levels higher than he intended it to be. He was pretty damn broke because of Cynthia. He would gladly save money wherever he could.

"Yes, thank you, Geo," Paul whispered, still half out of it.

***

John and Paul walked outside of the ice cream shop. Paul had turned towards the car, malt in hand, before John grabbed his shirt and yanked him back.

"Where ya going?" John asked with a mouthful of messy, melting chocolate ice cream.

"Your car?"

"For one, no way in hell we are taking this stuff in my pretty car. Second of all, obviously we should go walking together since we are already downtown. Seriously, my car will be there when we get back."

Paul raised his already arched eyebrow. "Do you ever sit still?"

John shook his head. "I'll do that after I'm dead, I have things to do and people to see before I get to that point,"

Paul smiled, taking a sip of his banana malt that he was certain George had added extra powder to. He knew he was staring at John longer than he should have. He could not even manage to pull his eyes off of John when he turned his back toward him and began walking away.

He definitely looked at John's very nice looking ass that was being hugged ever so perfectly by the denim of his jeans. There was a very good chance that he was not going to be able to kick this infatuation he had with the older boy.

John spun around, wicked smile on his face when he caught Paul looking at him, again. He wasn't stupid. He could estimate what had grasped his attention just by his eye level. He figured it was a good thing. It meant he was winning.

"You checking me out, Macca?"

Paul's eyes enlarged and he began blushing, badly. "No, I wasn't!"

John dropped the end of his mostly empty ice cream cone. He wrapped an arm around Paul's shoulders, carefully taking his malt away from him. "You totally were,"

"I really wasn't,"

"It is okay if you were," John mumbled, trying the odd flavored malt for himself. "I look too,"

Paul bit his bottom lip. "Who...who are you...looking at?"

John glanced around before pushing Paul into the small alleyway beside them. He pressed Paul into the brice wall of one of the bordering buildings, holding him in place by the shoulders. 

And then, finally, he gathered up the courage to kiss the boy. It was only a simple peck on the lips, but he was pretty sure that it got the point across.

"Does that answer your question?"

Paul nodded slowly, still sporting a rosy coloring in his cheeks.

"Good. I think we can go back to the car now."


	5. Do You or Don't You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little bit on the short side, but with this chapter comes great promise of great nonsense.

It was only two days later that Paul was working his first shift at the restaurant, closing. He wasn't sure how he had wound up on the night shift, but with John being the manager he figured it was going to be okay. Even if he and John hadn't said much to each other after the kiss. 

Most of his time was spent doing the very basics of training. John didn't say a word to him the entire time, making it a little bit awkward to be around him, but there was plenty of flirtatious smiling to ease most of that away.

Paul was getting a bit worried, however, wondering when John was going to make his move. Or, maybe he would do nothing, coming to his senses and stopping it before it went any further. Although, he really hoped that wasn't the case because he could not stop thinking about their kiss, however brief it was.

Towards the end of his shift, he found it even more difficult to focus as there were less employees on staff with each passing hour. He was no longer being trained by the terribly brash Jane, John taking her place beside him.

John nudged his arm when it got quiet, no orders to be filled and most of the other workers off line to attend to their nightly cleaning tasks. They were basically alone for the first time since they had spent the other day together.

Paul turned his head towards John, stupid smile plastered on his stupid face. He was pretty sure that he was also blushing.

"What are you doing after work?" 

"Uh...it will be after midnight, so, I don't know, probably sleeping?"

John moved across the small aisle, leaning against the staging station for fried products. "Wanna come back to my place, instead?"

Paul froze, wondering if he heard him correctly. "Wh-what?"

"I have to go to the store after work, could swing by your place and get your stuff, if you need stuff, that is,"

"Oh,"

"Paul, c'mon, this isn't a hook up, this is two people who enjoy each other's company, spending time together," John added on when he didn't get the immediate response he was looking for.

"I'll have to text my dad," Paul mumbled. He had actually wanted to say yes to him right away, but he knew there was a good chance that his father would freak out if he wasn't home in the morning, especially because that meant the possibility of Mike being home alone. He had to get permission.

"Then please do that, I've already told Cynthia that I would be too busy for our bullshit nightly phone call. I'd really like to spend some time with you."

Paul nodded. It was too hard to try to deny John. He was very persuasive, and hot.

"Awesome. Get on it. I'll let you use your phone, everyone else does."

Paul quickly sent a text to his father. They couldn't continue to talk while they waited. Three orders had been placed rather quickly and the remaining crew had returned to their stations.

Paul had a feeling that the last few hours were going to prove to be rather difficult.

***

The two boys were positive that they were going to get kicked out of the store at the rate they were going. They had already managed to get some very intense warning looks from the staff, which only were made worse by the fake accents they had used in response to all of the non-verbal scolding.

"Ey matey, what chu suppose we have for breakfast?" John chuckled, standing up on the front of the cart as Paul pushed it forward, one hand curled into a mock hook.

"I do not know, ye scallywag, what did ye have in yer mind?" Paul replied in his most overdramatic pirate accent. He sounded far more ridiculous than John, who almost made the accent seem like an art form.

John stepped down off of the cart, goofy expression softening into something a little more caring. "What if I make you breakfast? Then we aren't buying a bunch of random fucking shit and I can show off my amazing skills. What I make will be a surprise."

"I am okay with that, more than okay with that, and I'm really tired, not opposed to getting back to your house really soon, actually," Paul said with a yawn. He was never up this late.

"Hey! John! John Lennon!" A voice called from the end of the aisle.

John looked up to see an employee of the store waving at him. He had completely forgotten that the awesomely talented drummer who had beat him at the talent show when they were in elementary school, and almost every year after that, worked there. Stupid, big nosed elf who was way too nice for his own damn good.

"Hey man, what's up?" John said, taking a step back and leaning his arm on Paul's shoulder.

"Nothin' much, John Boy, haven't seen you in a while. Did you really completely miss out on the last month of school?"

"Yeah, showed up for my exams though. I had way better things to do that listen to some damn long winded teachers rambling on about something that I probably will never use in my life."

"Probably banging that hot track star you nabbed, huh? Cynthia is her name, right?"

"Nah, Ritchie, I am moving on to bigger and better things. She doesn't know it yet, but my guitar and I are planning on being nestled up next to someone else, hotter and smarter than her, too." He tried not to let his eyes wander over to Paul as he spoke, but all hope was pretty much lost. And, there was no way that the Starkey kid didn't notice it Behind that unusually large nose was a pair of very careful, observant eyes. John knew a thing or two about noses, and eyes, considering that he was practically blind without his glasses. 

"Ah, sounds like you are living the life then, eh?"

John nodded, smiling broadly, showing teeth.

"I am Paul, in case you were wondering, since for some reason I am standing right here and he hasn't made any attempt to introduce us, despite me recently becoming his personal armrest."

Paul was immediately greeted with Ritchie's firm handshake. "Richard Starkey, at your service, but best of the best works, too,"

"Nice to meet you," Paul mumbled.

"You, as well,"

John chuckled. "Just because you can play drums better than I can play guitar does not make you the 'best of the best'."

"It is definitely a start," Ritchie said, looking around for any other employees who might have seen him slacking off and talking to customers. "Well, I'll be seeing you. Got a lot of dumb shit to do."

John and Paul waved at the short man as he turned and walked away.

After a couple of moments of silence Paul looked over at John. "We should totally start a band,"

"Huh?"

"You, me, George, Richard, we all play, surely one of us can sing at least half way,"

John brushed it off. "That's cute, now c'mon, let's get the hell out of here,"


	6. Don't Let Me Break You

John carefully snuck Paul up the stairs to his bedroom after putting away a few of the items they had bought. He had told Mimi he planned on having someone over after work, but that did not mean he wanted to accidentally wake her up in the early hours of the morning and potentially piss her off beyond repair. 

He shut the door to his bedroom and switched on the lights. His room was about as messy as it always had been, something that had bothered him whenever he brought Cynthia in there. For some reason, with Paul it just didn't seem like that big of a deal. Probably because he hadn't started cleaning it upon the very sight of it.

Paul sat his bag down and threw himself down onto John's bed. He was dead tired and couldn't even differentiate between the bed and the floor. He wasn't even certain that he would make it more than a few minutes.

"Your bed feels amazing, what is this sorcery?" Paul said, moving his hands across the sheets that were not completely covering the mattress.

John sat down beside the younger boy, placing a hand on his thigh. "Pillowtop. It is downright sinful. You'll be unable to sleep normally on any other bed again, promise."

Paul shuddered at John's touch. No one had even come close to doing that, and definitely not someone with masculine hands like John's.

John noticed. Why wouldn't he have? He had been dying to get his hands on the boy from the first time they met and it was just an added bonus that he had reacted that way.

He did it again. This time, sliding his hand up further, fingers dipping towards Paul's inner thigh. He had to bite his lip for a moment to keep himself from doing or saying anything absolutely stupid. He definitely did not want to ruin it.

Of course, he could not keep himself from doing the motion a third time, making Paul gasp. And, what a noise that was.

"Oh, so you do like that? I was beginning to wonder." John whispered, finally pulling his hand away. 

Paul sat up on the bed, running a hand through his dark brown, almost black hair. "I thought this wasn't supposed to be a hook up?"

John moved next to him so they were shoulder to shoulder, both with their heads back against the wall. "Macca, listen. I like you, a lot, and I would be lying if I said I didn't want to get you into bed...in a different way, obviously, not like this...but that being said, I am going to let you be in control because I do not want to screw up my chances. You're younger than I am, yes, so there might be some obstacles there, but I'm still pretty new to the concept of being in a relationship with someone I want to be with."

A pair of big hazel eyes glued onto John. And, without warning, he had a hand on the back of his head. Their lips met in the same way as before, only now he was the one being taken by surprise. 

Paul's pouty lips definitely made for a good kiss. John wanted nothing more than to bite back and suck on them until they were swollen. Or really anything else that allowed them close contact.

"You're only my second kiss, ever." Paul admitted with an innocent meekness in his tone.

John smiled. "How do I compare to the other?"

"Better, but that might be because you actually know what you are doing, or it was because she was a girl, and I am really not sure that I like girls all that much."

"Eh, I don't like em much, myself. I never really could manage attraction, even fake or whatever, when I am with a woman. I hardly pay any attention to Cynthia and she still hasn't caught on to the fact that I am super gay..." John chuckled, interlocking his fingers with Paul's. He could not believe how right it felt. Everything just clicked. 

"So, you've always known?"

"Well, eh, kinda, I was pretty young when I realized it, I think. I was in elementary school, and I used to watch Full House reruns, and I don't know, but John Stamos did something to me that I didn't understand. From then on I basically kept it under wraps, keeping girls by my side to avoid suspicion. Small town like this, being all conservative and shit, probably would have burned me at the stake for not being a nice, straight Christian boy. I'm only now starting to realize just how ridiculous it was to cower to them, as if they held any real power over me."

"That's too bad," Paul said quietly, swinging his leg over John's to straddle him. He was inexperienced, but he wasn't at all dumb.

"Is it?" John asked, placing his hands on Paul's petite waist, wanting to leave fingertip shaped impressions into his skin on principal alone. 

"Oh yes, and I think it means we have a lot of lost time between the two of us that we need to make up for. I've never been in a relationship, period. You are going to have a lot to teach me."

John moved his right hand up to caress Paul's cheek, thumb grazing lightly over his bottom lip. He hadn't been expecting Paul to take his thumb into his mouth, sucking on it and swirling his tongue against the skin. John's cock twitched, desperate for similar attention.

John pulled his thumb out of Paul's mouth, trying not to giggle at the disappointed expression he was given for it. He yanked Paul's head back by the hair, staring deep into his eyes before they met in another kiss. A proper one.

"I'd love to teach you, but for some reason I don't think it will be me giving the lessons,"

Paul only shrugged at that, crawling off of the bed to change. John did not miss the cheeky little wink, it had not gone wasted on him.

***

The morning came too soon. Or, rather the sun came up too early into a room that had unfortunately not had the curtains closed.

John grumbled at his inability to sleep any longer, cursing the sunlight for forcing his eyes open.

Paul was still asleep, curled up under the covers facing the wall. He would probably be able to stay in is peaceful slumber if John was incredibly careful.

He slowly slid off of the bed. Once he was on his feet he took a moment to take in all that was Paul McCartney. He still could not believe how beautiful the young boy was, even when he was only staring at his back. It was crazy to think that he was his. He didn't deserve to put his hands on something so pure, so exceptional.

Even if they hadn't really discussed what this relationship actually was. 

He chuckled to himself, wanting to make fun of the thoughts that he was having. He turned and left the room, knowing he had plenty to do in order to make the perfect breakfast.

***

"Morning," A groggy Paul mumbled when he finally stumbled his way into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Macca!" John replied in a huff as he put the finishing touches on the plates. 

Mimi looked up from the paper in her hands. "Oh, Paul, I had figured that I would be gone long before you got up. How are you?"

Paul smiled awkwardly. He wasn't sure if John's aunt knew that they had spent most of the night making out and reading Cynthia's currently very bitter blog, but he felt like there was a strong possibility that she did.

"Are you sure you can't stay for breakfast, Mimi? I made plenty." John asked his aunt with the sweetest tone possible, bringing the two elegantly dressed plates to the table.

"Nope, afraid not, I am already going to be late for work," Mimi chuckled. "But it definitely does look good, John. I bet that it is absolutely delicious."

She grabbed her purse and turned to head out the front door. "Have a great day, John. You too, Paul." She said with a wave before completely disappearing. John thought that she had been acting weird lately. 

Paul looked down at the dish in front of him. He was still as tired as he had been the night before, and could hardly concentrate, but he was damn sure that what John had made smelled tantalizingly amazing.

"What you currently have in front of your pretty face is a hybrid creation of my very own: banana waffles infused with nutella and a carmel syrup to top it, of course with fresh bananas on top, as well. You will also noticed that there is a wonderful side of of carmel-brown sugar bacon." John said proudly in a funny voice.

Everything had sounded great to Paul, except for the bacon. Paul realized that he had never even thought about telling John that he was a vegetarian. 

"What's wrong?"

"I...I don't eat meat, actually, I'm sorry...I should have told you...especially since I knew you were going to be cooking," 

John laughed and walked over to the trash, removing a small box. "I know. You are one of the only people who orders your salads and sandwiches without meat. I made a very educated guess."

Paul glanced at the box, smiling knowing that John must have snuck that into the cart when they were shipping. It wasn't very often that people cared enough about him to accommodate their cooking for him. It gave him a warm fuzzy feeling, which made him feel like an idiot.

"Thank you,"

"You are welcome, hopefully it really tastes good," John said, continuing to chuckle.

"Uh...before we start...what are we doing here?"

John blinked, completely unsure of what to say next, not even sure if words would actually come out of his mouth. "Um...eating breakfast?"

"Not to be that person, but we have kissed a lot, and spent quite a bit of time together, and I've spent the night at your house, you've made breakfast....are we...boyfriends?"

John choked on the coffee he was sipping. He knew it was going to come to that question eventually, but he thought he was going to have some more time to prepare for what he was going to say to the younger boy.

"I guess that kind of answers my question," Paul muttered, concern for John choking slightly overshadowing some of the disappointment in his eyes.

"No, no, it doesn't. I was just expecting that to be more towards the end of the conclusion of the conversation, not right away...while my mouth was full of hot liquid." John replied, shaking his head. He reached across the table and grabbed a hold of Paul's left hand. "Do you...really want to be my boyfriend? You're not just experimenting here, with all of that relationship talk last night, right?"

"No, I mean, I want to, I like you,"

"Alright, Paul McCartney, will you go out with me?" 


	7. I Need Somebody

"Alright, Paul McCartney, will you go out with me?"

Paul nodded, smiling and giving John's hand a tight squeeze.

John fell completely silent, just watching Paul with his darkly intense eyes. He was still amazed with Paul's big, bright doe ones and his long eyelashes. This boy was so incredibly lovely, so flawless, he could have been a lunar princess from a far off planet.

And, it was that thought that snapped John out of his daze. He needed to lay off of the late night science fiction movies.

"How are you even real?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"You are definitely the pretty one out of the two of us. You're all gorgeous with these smooth, brilliant features, which is a compliment, by the way, even though it sounds weird, and I, well, look like a reject from the band Weezer. Got this whole Buddy Holly meets The Zombies thing going on and it is ridiculous, and I'm sure you have seen this thing in the middle of my face that I have been graced with for a nose..." John droned on, making gestures at his face and pointing out the very feature on it that most people tended to make comments about, including Cynthia.

Paul laughed, imitating a similar gesture towards John after he finally dropped his hand. "All this stuff that you keep thinking doesn't look right, you're wrong about. You are incredibly hot. Aquiline noses, to which yours is kind of like, are actually pretty sexy, and very much work with your hipster glasses."

John rolled his eyes. "I hate that word,"

"Which one, hipster or aquiline?"

"Okay then, words,"

"Good, I will make sure to say them to you all of the time,"

"You just earned yourself a serious time out, Macca!"

"Oh, I'm so scared. What are you going to do, send me to  _your_ room?" Paul replied in a teasing tone.

John ate a piece of banana before answering, needing a legitimate distraction from the image that popped into his mind. "You really need to watch that pretty little mouth of yours, or you are going to end up going for a ride,"

Paul furrowed his brow. "Well, that does not sound all that bad, a little slutty though, I had heard you were a little slutty..."

John pushed his chair out from the table and walked over to Paul. He yanked him up onto his feet, hand twisted in the collar of his shirt. He dark brown eyes bore holes through Paul as he licked his lips, calculating his attack on the perfectly pouty cupid's bow ones in front of him.

Finally, they collided together in a delicious entanglement of tongues and teeth, breathing hard through their noses as they practically took the life from one another.

Paul's hands shot up into John's messy mop of auburn hair, pushing him closer to him, pulling on his soft luscious locks ever so slightly. John growled into the kiss, spare arm wrapping tightly around Paul's waist, wanting him flush against him even as his other hand started to threaten the threads that held the seams of Paul's shirt together.

The kiss broke.

John could not stop smiling. "You have no idea, Macca,"

***

"That's really dumb, can you not do that?" George said, yanking Paul back by the arm before he walked out into traffic.

Paul looked up from his phone, realizing just how stupid he was being. It was sort of a miracle that he hadn't managed to do it earlier and end his life right there. It was the first time that he and George were able to spend any time together since school had let out because of their jobs and John and he was spending most of it glued to his phone, alternating between iMessage and snapchat. He was behaving like a lovesick puppy, or something worse.

"What is so damn interesting on your phone, anyway? You've barely said three words since I showed up at your house." George asked, ready to take the phone if he didn't get an answer.

Paul responded to one more text before looking over at his friend. "Sorry, I just wanted to make sure that my...uh...date was still on for tonight," He told George, instantly regretting it the moment that the words had left his mouth.

George's thick brows shot up. Shock and intrigue, or some other third thing. "Date? Date? You have a date? Paul McCartney, you dog! Who is the lucky girl that finally got you out of your shell? Is she someone I know?"

Paul was dead silent, wondering if he should tell him the truth or not. He could have made something up, obviously, but George was his best friend and he probably would notice that he was lying.

"Paul!?"

Paul's phone went off, again. A picture message from John. He really wanted to open it, but he couldn't, not with George staring at him with all of the suspicion the world could carry.

"Is that your date texting you? Better get answering it."

Paul quickly opened the message. It was a picture of John, shirtless. He had just come back from a run. He looked incredible, still glistening in a sweat. Paul had no idea that he had wanted something like that, but he was glad he had received it. He could not stop himself from smiling.

"Uh, Geo, can I tell you something?" He finally said, rubbing the back of his neck in his typical nervous way. 

George sat down on the bench in front of the pizza place, patting the space beside him. "I've been waiting for you to say something this entire time,"

Paul sat down and took a deep breath. "I...I'm...I am going on a date with John,"

George's mouth fell agape for a moment, or longer, eyes wider than he thought possible. "John as in John Lennon, who bought you ice cream the other day? Was that what was going on the other day, then? A date? Doesn't he have a girlfriend? Since when are you into guys, anyways? I have never even seen any hint of it before, did John convince you to try it out? How did I not notice this before?"

Paul put a hand up to stop George before it went any deeper. "George, George, wait, slow down,"

"Then tell me what the heck is going on,"

"I am going on a date with John Lennon. I really like him. The other day was no a date, but we did kiss after we left your dad's shop. He does have a girlfriend, but he is going to break up with her because he doesn't like girls. Which is kind of bad. I don't know when I realized that I liked guys, but I know girls are not completely my thing. I am just trying to figure this all out. Probably why you didn't notice anything before." Paul explained.

"So, are you gay then?"

"I don't know, maybe. All I know is I want John. I really like him. Same way you like that Pattie girl from gym class."

"I am gonna ask her out next year, I swear,"

"I'll believe it when I see it, Geo," Paul chuckled. 

George was finally smiling. "Well, if you are happy then I will be happy for you. Even though you have gone to the dark side by dating a popular kid."

"But he graduated,"

"Promise you will remember me when you are off hanging out with your new, sparkly friends?" George said with dripping sarcasm.

Paul playfully slugged George in the shoulder. "You are ridiculous,"

"Sooo," George mumbled. "What does your dad think about all of this?"

"He...doesn't...I haven't exactly told him yet..." Paul said, glancing down at the cement.

"Ah...well, if it goes as well as when he found out you busted that vinyl with the blood spatter on it then you can stay with me for a few days until the heat dies down."

"I certainly hope it doesn't go that way,"

"Or...like when he found you..."

"Better than that. Please."


	8. I'd Do Anything For You

John couldn't keep himself from grinning like an idiot, a giddy, over the top idiot. He was just that happy, for what seemed like the first time in almost forever. He was killing two birds with one stone today and it really was the best thing that could have ever happened.

Although, he was pretty sure that Cynthia was going to react in the most batshit crazy way possible and that she would make sure everyone knew what was going on. Hell, she might even make sure that he didn't have a job when it was all over, but he didn't care.

Anyways, he was one thousand times more invested with what he would be doing after he finally broke it off with her. He was excited to actually be going on his first date with Paul, which he had incredibly high hopes for, even though it would probably still be a while before he was able to charm the pants off of the young man. That was one of many goals he had.

He looked up from his book when he saw his soon-to-be ex girlfriend approaching, looking as pretty as ever. The smile on her face almost made him feel bad for what he was about to do. He was pretty sure that his lack of an attraction to women wouldn't even be something that she would consider, not that it was his fault, or anything like that, but she had definitely tried her hardest to look good and he couldn't even appreciate it properly.

She sat down beside him on the small loveseat in the center of the library. He hated just how unsuspecting she looked about what he had asked her there for.

"Cyn...I..." He began.

She raised her hand up to stop him from continuing. "No, John, before you say anything, I have something to tell you,"

"Alright then, okay, go on," John said with a sigh.

"I have been feeling a little bit neglected by you these past few weeks, and I know I should have talked to you first, but you had been spending so much time with the McCartney kid I was never really give much of a chance. So, here it is: I think the two of us should see other people. And, by think the two of us should see other people, I really mean, I have found someone else who actually pays attention to me." Cynthia explained.

John raised his eyebrows at the pretty blonde girl. "Um...are you breaking up with me?"

"Yes, John, I am,"

He took a deep breath. "Small world, because that is why I asked you to meet me here in the first place. I was going to break up with you."

"Have you been seeing someone else? Wasn't Alex, was it? I'll fucking kill her. Was it that Asian chick who is a few years older than us? The one with the camera? I'll fucking kill her." Cynthia asked defensively, raising her voice a little. John found it a little odd since she had just said she wanted to break up with him. 

"Oh my god, I have literally talked to that woman once because she said she liked my face and she had a camera, let it go,"

"It is her, isn't it? What? Do you have yellow fever now, John?"

"I've been seeing the McCartney kid, actually. Surprise, Cyn, I am as gay as the day is long, or whatever the actual saying is." He told her with a chuckle, moving his glasses on top of his head, so happy to have gotten the words out.

"Oh,"

"I thought it was best if I didn't continue to string you along, knowing full well that my interests lie elsewhere. Good thing that you had already planned to beat me to the punch."

Cynthia squinted her eyes at John angrily, lips closed tightly in a thin line.

Paul walked over to the two not even a moment later, surprised to see Cynthia sitting beside his boyfriend. She was glaring at him, making the already uncomfortable silence that much more unbearable. 

"Hey, babe," John greeted the boy, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him down into his lap. "We'll leave in just a moment, I drove my car up here,"

"You never took me anywhere in your precious car," Cynthia huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"Hey, attitude adjustment, madame, we aren't together anymore. You have no say in this. You said I was a bad driver, anyways. Now turn around, because I am about to do something you aren't going to like." John scolded his ex, just before he pulled his new beau into a quick kiss, grateful at the almost empty main room of the library.

He definitely did not have to make eye contact with the girl to know what kind of look she was giving him. He didn't really care. He was only looking at her face because he thought it was funny. He didn't think her new man would appreciate the way that she was acting.

***

It had taken a little bit of research, but John had quickly figured out the perfect place to take Paul. He had wanted everything to go according to plan, and he had quite the plan. 

"Italian?" Paul asked when John pulled into the parking lot of the large restaurant that sat in between the small town that they lived in and the slightly larger one beside it. "Am I underdressed?"

John shook his head, glancing at Paul's typical black jean and t-shirt attire. "No, it is nice, but it is pretty casual. You've never been here?"

"No. My father's idea of Italian is frozen pizza and the spaghetti sauce he makes from scratch that he swears is the best in the world. We barely even leave town."

"But this is practically a part of town," 

"Still have never been here. So, thank you for bringing me."

Before another word could be exchanged between the two John was on the passenger side of the car, opening the door like a proper gentleman, holding his hand out for Paul.

The younger boy looked up at him in shock. "You sure? You want to walk in there like this? Everyone will know..."

John pressed a finger against Paul's lips. "I am sure. One hundred percent. It isn't any different than the library. I don't care what other people think. I have you, I want to remind you that you are mine. I will gladly show you off. I wanna hold your hand."

Paul finally accepted John's hand, allowing him to lead the way inside the restaurant. He admired the massive smile that was now plastered on his date's face.

The interior of the restaurant was dimly lit with large, red booths that had black accents. The hostess lead them to one of the crescent shaped tables near the bar, forcing them to sit right beside each other, not that either of them minded. 

John played with his menu for a moment, trying not to be weird or creepy as pressure suddenly did him in. All the time he had spent with Paul had been incredible and now he could not keep himself from thinking that he was going to say or do the wrong thing. He couldn't say amazing, gushy nonsense all of the time.

This wasn't normal for him, at all. Paul consistently caused his thoughts to run wild, he challenged him, and this was just one of the side effects.

Paul turned slightly toward him. "Are you alright?"

"Ha, yeah, a little nervous, but I'll be okay," John mumbled.

"You, nervous? Why?"

"Because it is you and because I want everything to be perfect and because I overthink every aspect of my life like an idiot on a daily basis," John replied with a huff, having a hard time accepting how much of a mess he was turning into.

"You're crazy, I don't care what we are doing or where we are, I just want to be with you." Paul told him in a quiet voice, putting a hand on John's leg.

"I'm not crazy, I swear, a little off kilter, maybe, but definitely not crazy, not that I don't have every right to be, really, it is a miracle I am as level headed as I actually am. Besides, I have this new boyfriend who is so beyond gorgeous and wonderful, and just the sight of him throws my mind slightly more towards the crazy side, it is really not my fault."

"You compliment me too much, John,"

"Who said that I was talking about you?" John asked with his head cocked to the side.

Paul slammed his fist down into John's thigh, effectively giving him a charlie horse. "Not funny,"

"I don't know about that, it was pretty funny on my end,"

Paul punched John in the same spot. "Is it still funny?"

John shook his head as he grimaced through the pain. "No, that fucking hurt. What was that one even for? You hit freakishly hard."

Their waitress arrived with their drinks that both had swore were ordered eons ago. John ordered for both of them, something Paul only allowed because it made it look even more like a date. And, because the waitress kept flirting with the older John, eyefucking him like it was part of her job, which Paul did not appreciate.

"Alright, I'll get that right in for you,"

"Thanks," John said, smiling in that wonderfully charming way he had mastered. 

Paul looked over at him, enjoying every angle of his face. He loved just how expressive his almond shaped eyes were, taking everything in as if it was the first time he was seeing it. Paul really thought that John was beautiful, inside and out. He felt incredibly lucky to have met him. 

"What are you looking at" John snapped Paul out of his Lennon-centric-appreciative daze. 

"Your stupid face, if you must know," 

John started grinning again. More idiot than charming, however.

Paul's phone began ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out and quickly answered the call, not wanting his father to accidentally get sent to voicemail. He wasn't stupid, he was not about to piss him off over a missed phone call.

"Hello?"

_"Where are you?"_

"I told you that i was hanging out with John tonight, remember?"

 _"Yes, I do, but are you close to the house? How quickly can you be home?"_ Jim asked with a frantic tone in his voice.

"At the edge of town. You know, that Italian restaurant? Why? What is going on?"

_"The young woman who just moved in next door, she fell carrying some boxes. She thinks she may have broken her ankle. I need you to come home so that I can take her to the hospital."_

"Why? Why do I have to do that? Mike is old enough. He will be fine until you get back."

_"Paul! I am not kidding around here. You need to come home. Bring your friend, if you want. I will be gone before you get here."_

"Fine," Paul sighed. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

 _"Good,"_ Jim said before hanging up.

Paul sat his phone on the table and slumped down in defeat. He didn't even want to tell John what was going on. His stupid neighbor and overprotective father had successfully managed to ruin his evening.

"What was that about?"

"My neighbor is an actual moron and broke her ankle or something. My father is ridiculously infatuated with her and for some reason has volunteered to take her to the hospital. As I've already told you, he doesn't allow my little brother to be home alone, so now I have to cut our date short." He explained, barely lifting his head.

"I see,"

"Maybe we can get the food to go and then you can come home with me? He already said it was fine, which makes me think he might finally be feeling some remorse for constantly forcing me to not have a social life."

"I don't know," John licked his lips. "I might need some convincing,"

"What do I have to do?"

"Kiss me, in the middle of this restaurant, in front of the bartender who has been waiting for a show this entire time."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, obviously," John replied in a mock English accent. 

Paul chuckled, hitting the older boy on the head with a breadstick. 

"You are so violent, my god, starting to worry about you,"

That was the moment that Paul decided to kiss him. Hard. Without a single care left in the world.

John had figured he was still winning, as he was pretty sure that the score was still leaning in his favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real talk: the line did not say 'wanna hold your hand' until I was typing it here. It said 'Want To' and as I was typing it, it hit me that it was better that way. :)


	9. Twist

"At least the food was good, right? Even though your brother stole all the damn breadsticks!" John shouted in the direction of Mike's bedroom.

"But you ate almost all of them on the way here," Paul reminded him.

"Not the point, Paul, I love bread..."

"Whatever, I'm going to get my ice cream...you keep fantasizing about the breadsticks, okay?"

"The garlic cream cheese dip though! I have every single right." John paused, spending a carefully allotted amount of time before opening his mouth again. "What kind of ice cream?"

"Do you ever stop eating?"

John shook his head, stopping himself from jamming the last gob of cheese on his plate into his mouth.

"It is chunky monkey, since I can tell that you are still wondering what it actually is,"

"This is exactly why I don't wear my skinny jeans that often. I got these thighs from something. It is either my eating habits, or, well, I am going to eventually turn into some sort of merman creature."

"That should be exciting," Paul mumbled into the deep freezer while he rummaged around through it.

John grabbed Paul by the hips, leaning his body against his. He loved the way that the smaller boy felt, even in this slightly odd position.

Paul stood up awkwardly, almost hitting his head on the freezer door as he straightened his back. John immediately wrapped his arms around him tightly, resting his head on his shoulder. The older boy was warm and his embrace had been so inviting. He knew it was too soon to say it, or even feel it, but Paul was absolutely certain that he was falling in love.

John pressed his nose into Paul's neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell amazing,"

"Did you really just smell me?" Paul asked, trying not to giggle.

"Yeah, that definitely just happened,"

Paul shrugged. "I mean, it is fine, so long as you don't go all Hannibal Lecter on me. People are not food, John."

John took Paul's words as an invitation to nibble and suck on Paul's gorgeous neck, loving the way his skin tasted as he worked hard to leave a pretty obvious mark in his wake.

"You are so weird," Paul moaned, the urge to press back against John taking over.

John quickly spun Paul around to face him. He lifted him up onto the freezer, spreading his legs apart to move in between them. He went back to sucking on the boy's neck, claiming that same spot once more.

He trailed his mouth up Paul's neck, tenderly pressing kisses into his jawline before making his way to those deliciously pouty lips he adored so much. He bit down on the bottom one, tugging lightly, forcing another moan from his lungs.

His hands had been secure on Paul's hips before, but all the pretty little noises escaping from him gave John the confidence to travel lower. One hand moved up his inner thigh while the other palmed at his crotch, making his already tight jeans almost unbearable rather quickly.

"That wouldn't be such a problem if we took them off," John whispered in Paul's ear after he heard him groan uncomfortably.

"J-oh-n," Paul gasped, pressing himself harder into John's grasp, desperate for the friction. He couldn't handle it. He absolutely needed it.

Their lips collided not even a moment later as their sweaty lust finally boiled over.

It probably would have gone farther if Paul hadn't opened his eyes and noticed his brother Mike, staring at them with his mouth agape.

Paul instinctively shoved John away and jumped down off of the freezer. It was no use, however, as it was already obvious that Mike had seen them kissing and they both looked flustered to boot.

"Mike..." Paul began, only managing to get his name out before his brother started running his mouth.

"Ew! Gross! Why the heck are you two doing that on the freezer? Don't you know that people eat the food in there? We are going to have to throw it all out now."

"Mike,"

"No matter what you are about to say, I am still telling dad that you and your boyfriend were making out on the freezer. He is going to be so pissed."

"Mike, Mike, Mike, certainly there is some way that we can reason with you here? Something we can do for you so that you don't do that?" John asked all the while contemplating whether or not his smile would work on the younger McCartney boy.

Mike shook his head. "Not unless you plan on taking me to the electronics store at the mall to buy a new lens for my camera,"

"Or..." John began as the gears in his head started turning at the right speed to keep him from thinking about Paul being naked. "We could all go to the antique store, which is closer than the other one, and you could find yourself an awesome old camera or accessory while your brother and I snatch up old vinyls?"

Paul raised his eyebrows at the last comment, mostly because he had suspicions that snatch and purchase did not mean the same thing.

"Deal," Mike said, holding his hand out for John.

They shook on it. John glanced at the clock on the microwave, realizing that the place would actually be closing soon.

"Say, we will probably be better off waiting until tomorrow. We can go when it is still early, before all the old people get there. Paulie and I don't work until four, anyways."

"Fine, but I will hold you to it. I will. I'll tell him if we don't go. I really mean it."

"Don't worry. We won't let you down." John said with a wink.

"Okay, Paul, I will leave you and your boyfriend to make out on the freezer that we eat food out of. I would suggest another spot though, because the front door is only a few feet away."

Mike walked out of the kitchen, leaving Paul and John in an almost awkward silence.

"Where were we?" John asked, laying his seductive tone on a little too thick.

"Do you know what was really weird about that whole situation?" Paul didn't even acknowledge what John was saying.

John sighed, accepting temporary defeat. "What?"

"Mike said not one thing about the fact that I was kissing a guy. He just sort of went along with it. He was more worried about his own personal gain."

"Maybe he doesn't care. He might not be as brainwashed as the rest of these fuckwits."

Paul picked up the pint of ice cream and walked over to grab two spoons out of the dish drainer. "C'mon then, Mike was right, the freezer is not the best place to be canoodling. At least in the living room we will have time to separate if we hear the front door open."

"Why not your bedroom?"

"Because I want to go in there later, after my father is home so that he won't randomly bust in without knocking," Paul explained with pretty sound logic.

"Oh, okay. Also, who the fuck says canoodling? What time period did the aliens tell you it was when they brought you down here?"

"Oh shut up, or I'll eat all of this by myself,"

"You wouldn't dare,"

"But I totally would," Paul giggled, taking off into the living room with John only a few steps behind.

***

Neither of them knew what time it was, but it was dark. Almost pitch black outside with only one sad and ridiculous street lamp doing the darkness no favors with its amber lighting. The television was still on, the screen saver playing in a continuously loop, showing off a made up city skyline that featured some of the greatest movie icons in silhouette form. If it hadn't been for the slight glow it was giving off, they probably would not have seen the figure standing in front of them.

"Ahem," 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....this was going to be longer, but I totally decided to split the ish up into two chapters instead, oh well! lol...


	10. We All Wanna Change The World

"Ahem," The tall figure cleared his throat, giving away his identity. 

Jim McCartney did not exactly seem pleased with what he was looking at.

Paul sat up as quickly as humanly possible, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he adjusted to the minimal lighting. At the very least, this was going to be interesting, just like he had thought it would be.

He tucked his knees up against his chest, waiting for his father to say something, anything that was going to indicate his tone one what he had just seen. Not that it had been much, but there was bound to be a certain level of shock from a parent when they came home and saw their son in his pajamas cuddled up with another boy who happened to be shirtless.

Paul took a deep breath, unsure of what to say, basking in the slight relief that came from John placing a hand on his knee.

"Don't touch him," Jim grumbled, but John didn't even flinch, keeping his hand exactly where he felt it belonged. "Take your hand off of my son,"

"No, I won't. I won't move my hand unless he tells me to do so." John sternly held his ground against the middle aged man.

"Paul, are you going to say anything, at all?" Jim asked his son, eyes glaring hard at him, even in the dark.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He had wanted to tell him on his own terms. He wanted this to be a topic of discussion only after he was certain that his relationship with John was going to work out. He had already ran plenty of scenarios through his head over the past few days, they typically were at a table, usually not as awful as this.

"Paul!" Jim shouted when his son remained silent.

"I like him, okay. John and I were on a date, which was cut short by your phone call. We came back here and fell asleep on the couch together. That's it, dad, really. I know you probably are not going to like hearing that, but I guess I don't care. I want to be with him. You can say whatever you want about it. It isn't going to change the way that I feel or who I am." Paul said with a steady voice. He felt more confident than he ever had in his life and he knew it was because of his wonderful John.

His John. His John Lennon. He loved the way that statement made him feel, the way it sound even in just his head.

"John, I am going to need you to leave. I have to speak to my son in private." Jim told the teenager with the beaky nose.

"I must politely decline, Mr. McCartney, I am not leaving without Paul,"

"The hell you are leaving with my son. He isn't going anywhere. You, on the other hand, need to leave before I call the police."

"Don't call the cops, dad, or I will leave. I won't come home. He is staying by my side, end of story." Paul remained defiant, grabbing John's hand to keep him from moving. He couldn't bare to have him walk away, not yet.

"Both of you need to get out of my sight! Now! Before I do something that I am going to regret!" Jim shouted, hand pointing back toward the kitchen where the front door was located. "Don't say another word. Just leave."

"Can I get my stuff?" Paul asked, worried that he had already ruined his chance to escape.

Jim shook his head. "No, I want you both out of my house. I can't look at you right now. I will call you when I am ready to see your face."

Paul and John scrambled to escape from the McCartney household. Paul didn't even bother putting his shoes on, simply grabbing his favorite pair of flip flops and taking off barefoot instead.

They got into John's car. He began to drive away immediately. He still hadn't spoke a single word to Paul, which had him worried. This was definitely in the top five worst ways that their night could have ended.

"You can drop me off at George's, if you'd like. I know I can stay with him until the heat dies down at my house." Paul took a deep breath. "I can't imagine that my father will act that way forever."

John glanced over at his boyfriend. "Why would I do that?"

"Because of what just happened with my dad,"

"All the more reason for me to take you back to my place. You are far safer in my arms than anywhere else. Your dad can be a dick about our relationship all he wants, that isn't going to change the way that I feel or make me not want to spend time with you. It is all fine, really, pretty sure that everyone has at least one crazy parent."

"I'm sorry about how all of this turned out,"

"I'm not,"

"What?"

"We have had a great time together, Macca. It didn't go according to plan, but maybe that was for the best. I think it confirmed what I have always sort of known we're great together."

Paul gasped, unsure of what to say. Perhaps, he didn't have to say anything. John reached over and squeezed his thigh, a comforting reminder that everything was going to be alright.

***

John was not about to let Jim McCartney ruin his morning plans. He was a man of his word. He was going to take Mike to the antique store. Sure, Mike did not exactly have any pull since his blackmailing days were over due to the events that happened the night before, but John did not want to let the kid down regardless.

He stopped in front of the house, waiting for Mike to see Paul's text and get the heck outside. He wasn't trying to press his luck with Jim by lingering too long. Which was exactly why he was on the opposite side of the street.

While Paul was fumbling with a rather obnoxious sounding game on his phone, John noticed the neighbor that had broken her ankle. He knew her. Not extremely well anymore, but enough to recognize her face and remember the business card that she had gave him when they had spent time together. There had been so much. The card was actually still in his wallet.

He fought the urge to jump out of his vehicle to help her down the stairs. It would have been the good samaritan thing for him to do, or for him to at least help her carry her equipment. He just didn't want her to notice it was him, or for Paul to start asking questions.

"Your neighbor is a photographer?"

"Mm-hm,"

"Mike must really like that, huh?"

"Mm-hm,"

John rolled his eyes. Paul wasn't actually listening to him. He could tell. He could tell. He could probably say anything. In fact, he was going to.

"Wanna give me a handjob on the way there? Sure Mike won't mind."

"Mm-hm,"

"Good. Good. Swell. We could have sex in your dad's bed, too?"

"Mm-hm,"

"Sure you wouldn't rather me do ya in the bathroom at the store?"

"I am not having sex with you in a public restroom, John,"

John raised his eyebrows, blinking more than normal for a moment, suffering through temporary shock to his brain. "Does that mean..."

"Yes, John, I have been listening the entire time,"

"Oh," He chuckled. Then it all hit him, blush creeping into his cheeks. "Oh!"

***

"Where did Mike go, anyways?" John asked as he and Paul turned down another corner through the maze of a store.

"I don't know, I thought that you were paying attention to him,"

"Whoa. No. Not my monkey to look after. I am no idiot's keeper."

Paul's eyes widened. "You should probably never, ever have kids,"

"Eh, I'll just make sure to have 'em with you since you actually will pay attention to them,"

"Obviously not since I have no idea where my brother went,"

John experienced a pure moment of pretty bird syndrome as a booth with several crates of vinyl pulled all of his focus toward them. He began thumbing through the titles, falling in love with each one a bit more than the last. 

"You ever listen to The Zombies, Paul?" John asked. "Got a lot of Elvis in here, too. Damn. Some other eras, as well. Bowie, Iggy, Tina, Aretha, Fleetwood Mac. Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, Benatar. This is a freaking goldmine."

"If they actually even work, that is,"

"Even if they don't, some are nice to look at. Pieces of history. Nothing like the sound of vinyl, even at its absolute worst."

Paul chuckled. "You're an old soul,"

"Oh, hardly, I just know what good music sounds like, even though I can barely play anything myself besides the damn harmonica."

"I have a record player myself...you can play the guitar plenty fine, too...I should know, I am your teacher." Paul continued laughing.

John took a Depeche Mode record into his hands, feeling the sleeve. "We should start a band,"

Paul couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So, when I say it, it is cute and you blow it off, but when you say it, the earth is supposed to move an I should just agree, huh?"

"No, when you said it, I was tired and thought you were fucking joking. You see, it has always been a dream of mine. I want to make music. I want to take over the world. I want to be bigger than Elvis was, better than Justin Beiber is now, and I want to sell more than One Direction. A real band Ever since I was little I knew that I wanted this, I just didn't know if I would ever get it. I didn't tell you because I thought you would think I was crazy."

"No, I don't think you are crazy, I think this is a great idea. The best, really. Let's do this."

"Really?"

Paul intertwined his fingers with John's. "Let's take over the world,"


	11. Groovin' Up Slowly

"There is literally too much stupid to go around here. I am not quite sure that I can successfully maintain this job, knowing that Cynthia is being like this." John grumbled to his boss after he had heard three employees snickering about his sexuality behind his back. That hadn't even ben the worst of it, but he was trying not to think about it.

One more thing said about Paul and the owner of the mouth that said the words was going to find out what it was like to have hot grease from the grill in their damn pants.

"Are you sure this was Cynthia's doing?"

"Yes! Yes I freaking know that it was Cynthia! I broke up with her. I left her for a guy. She is the only person who knows what is going on besides me and my new boyfriend, at least here, besides you, that is. Anyways, this hadn't happened until after all of that. Cyn is just a spiteful bitch." John shouted, slamming his fist into the desk.

"John! Calm down! I will not have you talking that way about another manager. The punishment is not one that you want, believe me. And, it only gets worse from there." The woman said with a stern tone.

"Fine, whatever, but I seriously expect something to be done about it. I want the crew to respect me, I don't want them to spend their time making ridiculous comments. It isn't like it is their business, anyways, who I prefer to sleep with."

"John, I do not want you to take matters into your own hands. Do you understand?"

John nodded. "I do. You don't have to worry about a thing."

"Remember, I can enforce the rules about fraternization if things get out of hand. Paul is a minor employee, and a crew member."

"Got it. Got it." John dismissed what his boss was saying with the wave of his hand. "I'll be good."

***

Paul was asleep in John's arms. John loved it. There was something so incredible about holding him close. It just made him feel so damn complete. Things were going so well for him. He could barely believe it.

He kissed the top of the younger boy's head and snuggled him closer. He definitely thought that they made quite the pair. Lennon and McCartney, together they could accomplish anything.

"John..." Paul mumbled, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt. "What are you thinking about?"

"Starting our band and being with you, the usual," John said with a chuckle.

"Oh, that's nice. I was thinking about something with us, too." Paul mumbled some more. John thought it was adorable.

"What were you thinking about?"

"How nice it has been to be with you, falling in love with you."

John gasped. He wasn't expected that, even out of a half asleep Paul. It mostly took him by surprise because he had been thinking the same thing, wondering if it had been too soon for such thoughts to cross his mind. It was kind of crazy to know that Paul had been thinking the way that he was.

"Are you, falling in love with me?" John asked in a whisper, just to be certain.

Paul nodded. "I think so, I hope so,"

John rolled Paul onto his back, lying on top of him. The younger boy was suddenly much more alert, eyes glued on John's. 

"I hope so, too,"

Paul giggled. John caught him in a passionate kiss, making sure that Paul knew he was serious. His hands ran down his sides, making their way to the hem of his shirt before working upwards. John didn't care how, but he wanted that piece of fabric to be far from his boyfriend's body.

He tossed Paul's shirt to the floor, allowing his lips to trail down lower. He explored his skin, teasing the most sensitive areas as he went. He quickly discovered how much Paul enjoyed his nipples being sucked on, and played with, loving all of the little sounds he made upon contact. This was going to be fun.

He moved even lower. He dipped his tongue into Paul's naval, making him shudder. His fingers curled under the waistband of his pajamas, slowly working them downward until his goal was completely exposed.

"John...I..." Paul mewled. 

John pulled himself back up to Paul's level, looking him deep in the eyes once more. "What's wrong, Macca?"

Paul sighed. "I...am not sure...because I have never..."

John pressed a finger against the boy's precious lips. "I won't do anything that you don't want me to. I will stop the second that you tell me to. Right now, I just want to make you feel good, and I think I might know exactly how to do it, if you'll let me."

Paul bit his bottom lip. "I trust you, I want you,"

"Good," John said with a wicked grin across his face. 

He moved back down, spreading Paul's legs apart. Slowly, he pressed tender kisses against his inner thighs, tracing his way up to Paul's hardening cock.

He wrapped his hand around the base and stroked Paul to full hardness. He bit his lip, trying not to make a comment about the boy's rather impressive girth. Now, was not the time for that. 

He leaned in, flicking his tongue against the tip. He tasted the precome that was already beginning to drip down Paul's shaft. He wrapped his lips around the head, sliding down the length all the way to the hilt. Paul threw his head back, arching upwards as his hands clenched up into fists around the sheets.

"Fuck, John! John!" Paul cried out, hands moving into John's thick auburn hair. All of the sensation was building rapidly inside of him, a new tension that he was not quite prepared for combining together with such an incredible pleasure.

As John's mouth worked magic upon him, tongue teasing and lips wrapped around him ever so nicely, Paul realized that he wasn't going to last much longer. He was a little surprised that he had lasted this long.

John continued bobbing his head up and down between Paul's legs. One hand was wrapped around the base of the younger boy's cock while the other was tempting him in delicious other ways, paying special attention to his balls and all of those little places that he knew had never been touched. John picked up his pace, fully prepared to swallow quickly. 

Paul's grasp on the back of John's head tightened. He cried out for John, entire body spasming underneath him with the intensity of his orgasm. He held John in place, forcing him to suck down all of his release until his body was able to calm down.

His legs were still shaking when his head finally collapsed back onto the pillow. John was amazing.

John sat up on his knees, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. "You have got an aggressive streak in you, princess," He said with a light chuckle.

"I'm sorry,"

"Don't be. I like my men with a little bit of fight in them, makes things more interesting. Can't wait to take you on. The things that I want to do to you are gonna leave you breathless." John told him before catching him in a rough kiss.

Paul gave in to John completely, wondering if he was tasting himself on the his boyfriend's tongue. It was almost too weird to think about.

John moved away from him for a moment. The smile on his face might as well been a mile wide.

"What?" Paul asked to break the silence.

"You are too fucking perfect for your own damn good,"

"I thought you were going to say pure for a minute, I was so ready to slap you,"

"Ha, that word won't apply to you when I am done,"

Paul glared at him. "How do you know?"

"Because, my dear, I am no fool. Now, go to sleep before I get any ideas on how to properly deal with you."

Paul was laughing, but that didn't make him any less nervous.

***

Paul walked into John's bedroom, catching the older boy completely by surprise. His eyebrows were raised and his attention had left his phone entirely. 

He was quite a sight to see. His hair was still wet, slicked back into a makeshift pomp, it glistened in the light, almost as much as his skin. Regardless, that was only the start of it. There was also the too tight black t-shirt with The Smiths on it and the painted on appearance of his shredded black skinny jeans to consider. 

John was going to be distracted as fuck if he had to look at Paul like that all damn day. He was going to be so fucked.

Also, what the hell did that boy think he was doing dressed like that when the temps were nearing the low nineties?

"You are in no way going to leave the house looking like that. Downright sinful. You are far too good looking, everyone is going to stare at us and try to figure out why the hell you are with me."

Paul couldn't help, but start chuckling, joining John on the edge of the bed. "No, they will see a teenage boy trying way too hard to impress the super hot guy he hangs out with."

John tipped his phone over to keep Paul from seeing what was on the screen. "I highly doubt that. Anyways, you are too distracting for your own good, that's for sure."

Paul glanced at the upside down iphone with interested eyes. "Whatcha hidin'?" 

"Nothing, I swear,"

"You sound way too guilty for me to actually believe that," Paul shot back, hand reaching for the device.

"Ever thought that maybe I was just textin' Ringo to make sure he was meetin' us at the right place?"

"No...who's? What? Ringo?" Paul asked with great curiosity flowing within him.

"Ritchie...his...nickname," John mumbled. "Ringo...it...it's a long story, babe, best not to delve too deep into everything right now."

All the while John was speaking, Paul had snatched the phone from him, knowing exactly what the set of numbers were that unlocked the device. The webpage that greeted his eyes left him with quite the impression, and oh so many questions. 

John finally realized what had happened, staring at his boyfriend with his mouth agape. There was no way that he was going to get out of this one. "Uh..."

Paul turned the phone toward John. "Care to explain this?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And cliffhanger, because why not? I'm evil...


	12. Don't Know How Lucky You Are

"Well, it is a website, that sells a certain kind of item, and I was just browsing, because maybe I am interested in making a purchase, I want one," John half mumbled, wanting his phone back safely in his hands. His ears were feeling a little warm and this was just a tad bit more embarrassing than he had hoped.

"Um, John, what are you planning to do with said item?" Paul asked. "What do you need it for?"

John cleared his throat. "It is a dildo, Paul, what do you think I am going to do with it?"

"Fuck yourself?"

"Or fuck you? Perhaps? I have one already since I was your stereotypical closeted gay kid, who needed some obvious release, but it is really basic and I want an upgrade. Honestly, I want something a little more flashy and colorful. Sorry if this is too weird or if it makes you uncomfortable. That was why I hid it." John explained.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious. I am considerably more interested in finding out what the real thing feels like first, but who am I to knock the silicone kind before I have tried it."

"Little gay me is screaming internally because he never thought he would ever have such an amazingly fantastic boyfriend,"

Paul playfully slugged John in the shoulder. John immediately captured im in his arms, pressing a series of kisses against his cheeks.

"Boys!" Mimi called up the stairs. "As much as I hate to be the one who interrupts whatever it is that you are doing up there, I would like the two of you to actually leave the house today."

John quickly ran to the foot of the stairs. "Why, Mimi? Got a hot date?"

Mimi shook her head. "No, but I do have a visitor coming around noon and the idea of me allowing my nephew's underage runaway boyfriend stay at my house already sounds horrible, I do not need the visuals to actually manifest in front of anyone. Speaking of which, has Paul heard from his father, yet?"

"Nooope,"

"I am about to call that man myself," She grumbled, almost too quietly for John to hear.

"Please don't do that," Paul said, making his presence known behind John.

"You two are going to the fair, right?" Mimi asked when they were both on the main floor.

John nodded. "Yup, gonna see Ritchie at his sister's booth an' meet up with Paul's friend, George. Tryin' to start a band."

Mimi rolled her eyes to fully express the ever present fear that this band in the making might just end up having their practices in her home. "Out. Both of you."

"I finally know where you get it from, you are just like her," Paul giggled like a schoolgirl. 

"...Someone was bout to notice it...eventually..." John muttered under his breath, thankful that he had inherited more from his Aunt's nurturing then from his mother's nature. He didn't want to even begin thinking about who he might have been if it wasn't for her.

***

The fair was already packed. Probably because there was nothing better to do in their stupid little town. In fact, this was the biggest event of the year. It just sucked that it was so unbelievably fucking hot.

"Why did I say yes to this, again? This has got to be the most ridiculous idea, ever." John groaned, already wiping sweat off of his forehead. "We should have met up somewhere where there was air conditioning."

Paul tried to take a deep breath as he pushed his wayfarers back on top of his head, but the air was too thick. Perhaps, John was right.

They walked down the main causeway passing all of the carnival style rides that often looked a little more run down than what had seemed safe. The carnies didn't look much better, either.

"I want something to drink, overpriced lemon water sound appetizing?" John asked, reaching into his pocket to see how much cash he actually had.

"Not for eight bucks, it doesn't," Paul said as he made a ridiculous gesture toward the vendor that sold the overly priced, overly sugary beverage.

"A bottled water, then? Those are only a dollar." John suggested.

Paul nodded before catching someone out of the corner of his eye. It was George. He was so happy to see him since it was such a rare occurrence these days, a fact that he hoped they would remedy very soon. 

"Yo, Geo!" Paul called out to get the attention of his friend.

George looked up from his cotton candy, smile coming across his face immediately. "Paul!"

The new couple waved the brunette boy over to them, ready to pounce on the prospect of adding him to their band that was not yet a band. They only hoped that he would be as enthusiastic as they were.

"That's how you freaking dress in ninety degree weather, Paul," John said, pointing at George and his rather appropriate attire. "T-shirt, shorts, flip flops, now...world's hottest emo."

Paul blushed, or maybe it really was just that hot outside. Both?

"So," George began, awkwardly waving his cotton candy around. "Why was it so important that I met you two freakish lovebirds here, anyways?"

John smiled, all wicked and charming and such. "Because you play guitar,"

"Not following. Paul, why doesn't your boyfriend make any sense?" George asked as he stuffed more of the candy in his mouth, eyebrows raised to emphasize how confused he really was.

"He makes perfect sense, in my opinion," Paul chuckled lightly. He nudged the older boy in the arm to give him his vote of confidence.

"Of course you would say that, he's all you ever talk about," George grumbled. 

John nudged Paul this time.

"Anyways, Geo, I told John that you can play guitar. John, he can play guitar and the harmonica. I can play bass, guitar, piano..."

George hit his best friend on the shoulder with the stick that remained where the sugary substance no longer existed. "We get it, you are stupidly talented and can play every of the instruments, can you get on with the point here?"

Paul nodded. "John and I were thinking of starting a band, wondering if you might like to join us?"

George stared at the two for a moment. At first, he seriously thought that they were joking. It didn't take long for him to realize that he was wrong, however, mostly based on the expressions that were plastered on there obviously impatient faces.

"That's all nice and what not, but aren't we missing some important components to this whole band thing? Three piece sets don't usually work out that well when none of us have the faintest idea how to play the drums."

John held up a hand. "That is exactly the thing we are on our way to remedy. If the two of you will so kindly follow me, we will explore the vast stretches of the imagination  and, we will find ourselves our very own drummer."

"Don't we also need a singer?" George asked in a tone that signaled the fact that they were possibly in for more than just that one question. Paul knew from experience what happened when George got stuck on something. In no time the quiet, young Harrison would be talking as much as a highly caffeinated John.

"I can sing," John told him, already beginning to walk away.

"He can?"

"Yes, I heard him while he was in the shower, he is actually quite good," Paul said with a saccharine sweet smile.

John held his hand up with his index finger and thumb about an inch apart. "I sound pretty...average..."

"He's better than that, don't let him food you," Paul whispered.

"I heard that!"

"Wasn't trying to keep it from you babe," Paul called back up to his beau a few feet ahead. He figured John would enjoy the public use of the word 'babe', despite the fact that literally no one around them was paying any attention.

"Did you know that Paul used to be in choir? He's got a voice himself." George said before Paul could clasp his hand over the boy's mouth.

John stopped, turning to face Paul slowly. "No shit?"

"George, why are we friends?" Paul asked through gritted teeth.

"Oh, don't get mad at him. This is brand new information for me that might become useful at some point. Bravo, George!"

"Wow, I think I might actually hate both of you,"

John wrapped an arm around Paul's shoulders. "Don't worry, we still love you,"

George scoffed.

They arrived at a booth where a woman was selling all varieties of body jewelry. Paul wasn't sure, but he thought that they might have actually had people who would be able to pierce on sight. He was definitely wondering if he would be able to get the industrial he always wanted.

The short, blue eyed man with the nose that was everything that John's was not emerged from behind one of the stands with a kind smile on his face. "You made it!"

John picked up his pace, quickly making his way over to Richard. He was a true man on a mission. 

"Starkey?" George asked Paul as quietly as possible. Paul only shrugged with a little nod.

"Alright, so here is the deal, I am going to start a band and the only way to make that band complete is by adding a drummer. I'm hoping that might be you. You are amazing, you are just what we are looking for. We are going to take over the world."

Ritchie shook his head. "No, nope, not gonna happen,"

"Why not?" John asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Ritchie glanced over to George and Paul, then back at John. Already, this idea seemed downright awful. Mostly because he considered John arrogant, and the others were too young. How would they even be able to be one unit? This, he thought, was utterly ridiculous.

"Because, last time I checked, adding me to this hot mess trio you have created that currently consists of you, your loverboy, and loverboy's small friend will only succeed in having an express added at the end of said hot mess."

"But you don't know that, for sure. What if, perhaps, we had a dream team in the making and you were just the missing puzzle piece?" John's voice had taken on a sort of unappealing, whiny, pleading tone. And, everyone standing around him had definitely noticed.

Richard sighed, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. Once again he found himself glancing between his different potential bandmates. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was just something horribly wrong with this entire situation. He just knew it.

"Please, Ringo, pleaaaase?" John had now switched to sounding overly sweet.

"Did you really just Ringo me, Johnny Boy?"

John nodded excitedly, smiling wide.

"Fine. Alright. Whatever. I will join you awkward misfits on your fantastically weird adventure."

"Really?" John asked, in disbelief that he had managed to convince the drummer to join in such a short period of time. 

"Yes," Ringo mumbled. "At least until this entire thing falls flat on its face,"

"Oh, it won't,"

"Huh?"

John grabbed the blue eyed man's arm, holding it up for the other two to see. "A drummer we now have, folks, your fearless leader can accomplish anything!"

Paul clapped while George gave a thumbs up. Here went literally nothing.


	13. With Diamonds

"Holy shit, wasn't sure how good you were going to be at that," John panted as he wiped sweat matted hair off of his glistening face. 

Paul whipped his head back, laughing his ass off. He wiped off the sides of his mouth, getting back up on his feet slowly to avoid falling. "I cannot believe that you convinced me to do that. I feel so dirty. I am all muddy. I happen to like these clothes, ya know."

John wrapped an arm around Paul's shoulders. "That makes two of us, Macca. Two awesomely muddy guys who just beat the record on an obstacle course at a fair. Because nerds."

"A shame that Geo and Ritchie wouldn't join us," Paul chuckled, happy they were finally on solid ground.

"A bunch of babies, those two," John added, shooting a glare in the direction of the bench the other half of the band to be was sitting on.

"At least the two of us are still clean enough to go on rides!" George shouted back.

John rolled his eyes and pulled Paul closer to him, arm sliding down to a nice resting spot around the younger boy's petite waist right above his ass. They had far better things to do that listen to comments about the sheer ridiculous amounts of mud that were in places neither wanted to think about. John was going to lead them away.

"We probably smell awful, too, gonna say anything about that?" John barked in a tone that dripped with excess amounts of sarcasm when he turned back to look at the others.

George shook his head. His decision to shut his mouth did not go unnoticed. John was glaring at him, regardless. He might have been mostly blind, but he could still shoot a proper scolding glance in the direction of the youngest member of the group.

"Now, now, John Boy, no reason to attempt murder with your eyes. You are supposed to keep your powers a secret, remember?"

"Quiet Ringo, or I am going to shove you off of the Sea Ray,"

Ritchie scoffed.

"How about everyone just shuts their damn mouths and we all get something to eat?" Paul finally suggested.

Somehow, all four of them managed to agree. It was off to the vendors with them.

***

John was staring at the step counter on his phone in disbelief. He had somehow managed to walk six miles the day before and he could seriously feel it. His whole entire body ached beyond anything he had experienced before. It was awful. He would have been content to not move again for the rest of his life.

He groaned as he slowly tried to pull his knees up against his chest without disturbing a still sleeping Paul. He wished that he had been lucky enough to not be part of the land of the living like his boyfriend, but he obviously was not. They hadn't even stumbled home until well after midnight. Rest would have been a fantastic way to rest his bones.

He scrolled through his camera roll to see the pictures from the night before, curious to actually see what had been captured while he was walking about the fairgrounds half drunk and totally out of it. There were several pictures of Paul on different rides, and small piglets from the 4H barns towards the back. It was hard not to smile, with every stupid selfie he took with his lover making the memories that he had much sweeter.

Paul rolled over and leaned up on his elbow. "Mornin',"

John startled, previously lost in an adorable snapshot from the top of the giant ferris wheel. "Oh, hi,"

"Wow, are you looking at giant dildos on your phone, again?"

"Nope, I am looking at this cute picture of this guy who really hates ferris wheels cuddling up against this goofy looking fellow with his thick rimmed glasses." John told him, turning his phone toward the still very sleepy looking Paul.

The younger boy took the phone into his hands, admiring the photo. "You have to send me this one,"

"Send it to yourself, you are the one who has my phone," John chuckled, running his fingers through his messed up hair.

"Then had me my damn phone so I can post it," Paul said with his arm outstretched.

Just as John picked the phone up off of his nightstand, it began ringing. "Uh..."

Paul grabbed his phone to see who was calling. It was his father. After all of this time. He almost didn't want to answer it, but he knew that would have caused more harm than good.

"Hello?"

 _"Hi, Paul,"_ Jim said without any emotion in his tone.

"Hi, uh, what's up?"

_"I want to talk. You need to come home. You have been gone long enough."_

"Uh, yeah, but not by choice,"

_"We need to talk, Paul,"_

"Uh...okay, yeah, sure, what time?"

 _"Now would be just fine,"_ Jim's voice had no telling inflections in it whatsoever and it left Paul on the verge of becoming a big ball of anxiety.

"Okay. I just woke up so it will still be a little bit, but yeah. John and I will come over."

Paul didn't notice John's widening eyes as this conversation took place beside him.

_"Have you been staying with him this entire time?"_

"Yes, where did you think I went?"

_"Doesn't matter, have him drop you off as soon as he can,"_

"No, he will stay. He won't just drop me off."

_"Paul, I want to talk to you in private,"_

"And, that's fine, but that doesn't change the fact that he is staying there if you actually want to talk to me,"

Jim grumbled to himself, something completely indiscernible under his breath. 

"So? Do you still want me to come?"

 _"Yes,"_ Jim sighed.

"Great, I will see you soon," Paul blurted out harshly before hanging up the phone.

John just looked at him with concern. He didn't bring up the fact that he had just volunteered him to walk into the potential war zone. He didn't want to further upset the already stressed out creature beside him.

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments. They processed the events that had lead up to this point, wondering in their own ways what insanity would manage to be thrown at them next.

John laid his head against Paul's shoulder. No matter how this day turned out, he promised to remain at his side. They could get through this.

***

"He has been in the kitchen for a very long time," John mumbled, looking back from his spot on the reclining couch into the kitchen.

"He's making coffee. It is a Keurig, it goes one at a time. And, it is noisy, but not so much that he can't hear us talking." Paul explained.

"I bet that he is trying to make me sweat. I corrupted his son so now I am going to die."

"Oh, calm down, it isn't going to be that serious,"

John shot him a 'How can you be so sure?' look just before they heard footsteps approaching.

The elder McCartney walked into the livingroom balancing three mugs full of blazingly hot coffee effortlessly. He was still being as quiet as he had been when they arrived, leaving the boys plenty of room to speculate what he was going to say next.

He sat down on the oversized couch that was sitting across from the diagonal coffee table. It was the same couch he had caught Paul and John sleeping on, a memory all three would have liked to forget.

He placed his mug on a coaster, turning more towards the boys with his hands in a steeple. His expressionless eyes were even more terrifying than they would have been if they presented as angry.

"Paul, John, I've...I have gone over all of this in my head several times, different words and different outcomes. So, let me start off by apologizing to the both of you for my recent behavior. I overreacted and it was wrong for me to kick you out just because I don't agree with your relationship."

"Apology accepted, I think," Paul said in a quiet voice. He sounded so small as he spoke, almost like a different person entirely.

"Good, because you need to come home. You are my son and I love you. And, certainly you are aware that it does not look good for me as a parent if my sixteen-year-old son is shacking up with some boy that I know absolutely nothing about. I won't make any judgements about John until I know more about him, that is what is fair."

"Thank you, Mr. McCartney," John replied in a level tone.

"I believe that I told you my name is Jim, and I expect it to remain that way. One bump in the road is not going to change that. No need for formalities here. You are in a relationship with my son."

"Yes, sir,"

"None of that either,"

John pursed his lips, focusing on his feet rather than the man in front of him. 

"Alright, the last thing that I want to say is that I am not a huge fan of this entire thing. I don't agree with it, mostly because John is eighteen and I don't know him. That might change with time, who knows? It really depends on what kind of person I find him to be. I'll still support you, Paul, because I want you to be happy. That's what matters most. If John is what makes you happy, than I am happy, for both of you. In time, I hope that we all find common ground."

Paul could not believe what he was hearing. He had to get his ears checked. He figured that he must have actually walked into his house and been knocked out by a powerful punch from his father and that this was all just a figment of his imagination.

"So, you are okay with me being gay?" Paul asked, just to be sure.

"Well, actually, I don't really think that you are gay, son. I know about your crush on that Fiona girl, the actress. She was on the screen of your phone. I would like to believe that this is a phase, but Yoko and I were talking the other day and she said that sexuality is on a spectrum, it is supposed to be fluid. Maybe that explains everything."

John cringed, very obviously, at the mention of Paul's neighbor's first name. Paul decided to let it slide, for the time being, anyways.

"Talk about having crushes on people..." Paul mumbled rather loudly, not that he had actually cared if anyone heard him.

Jim didn't say a word in response. 

John was quite vocal, on the other hand, muttering a slew of expletives when three texts and a picture message came through on his phone. Paul was definitely not letting this one slide. They were going to talk about it.

"I am done with what I had to say. The two of you are free. I will have my other discussion with Paul another day. I would like to invite the two of you for dinner, and John you are more than welcome to stay over...on the couch or on Paul's floor with the door open."

"Dad!" Paul shouted, but it was far too late for him to stop talking.

John's mood shifted rather quickly as he buckled over laughing at the older McCartney's words and the younger one's immediate reaction. That did not mean that Paul had forgotten about the phone thing, however. They were still going to talk about it, even if it pissed John off.

John regained his composure and turned back toward Jim. "What are we having for dinner?"

"Nothing spectacular, just tacos. Are you a vegetarian like Paul?"

John shook his head.

"Wonderful. Then you don't have to eat that god awful jackfruit he likes so damn much. It is terrible, really."

"I'll probably still try it. I like gain experience and try new things." John told the man, making Paul smile.

"You are far braver than me," 


	14. Please Please Me

"Why did you get all weird earlier when your phone went off?" Paul asked, finally, after struggling with how to address it for hours.

John lifted his head up off of the awkwardly hard pillow he was using. It only served to compliment the hard floor that had almost no padding beneath the carpeting. He didn't mind the pain he was inflicting on his spine. It was worth it just to be close to Paul.

"You aren't going to freak out and get all spacy on me if I tell you something crazy, right?"

"I don't think so,"

John unlocked his phone and showed Paul the photo. It was of the two of them on the couch. It was pretty obvious that it was taken from the other side of the window.

"What the...what the hell is this?" 

John took a deep breath. "I know your neighbor, she used to come into our work a lot, long before you started. She kinda always seemed to be paying extra attention to me. She was too nice, though, and I was very aware of it. At some point we shared numbers and I took her card. She said she wanted me to model for her."

"Was...is...does she stalk you?" Paul asked with serious concern in his voice.

"No, no, it isn't quite like that. She's attracted to me and wanted to take my picture. I never had the heart to tell her that she was not the right gender for me, probably because I was with Cyn at the time. I haven't seen her in a while, didn't even know where she wound up until I met you."

"Oh,"

"It is really nothing to worry about, babe. She is just a chick photographer who finds my weird face as nice as you do." John chuckled.

"Hmm," Paul mumbled, pulling his covers off of his body slowly so that John didn't notice. 

"Are you alright?" John asked, hating the sudden silence.

Paul crawled down onto the floor, moving to straddle John. "Yeah, but I want to make sure you forget all about my creepy neighbor,"

"What about your dad, he's asleep, what if he comes..."

Paul clasped a hand over John's mouth. "He is on the other side of the house and he sleeps like a log. Let me do this." He whispered as he moved his hips against the hardening cock beneath him.

John moaned, hands grabbing Paul by the waist. His grip was tight and he didn't care. He wanted to leave marks, his claim on that porcelain skin.

Paul repeated the motion. He rocked his hips faster now, pulling even more sounds from his sexy older boyfriend. John was painfully hard, now, and he was on his way there.

"You sure about this?" John whispered.

Paul nodded. He grabbed one of John's hands and pressed it against his crotch. The new contact was only separated by a thin piece of fabric was almost too much. It left him with one hell of a need, and one hell of an ache.

He took the same hand and moved it to his ass. John took the hint and gave him a well deserved squeeze.

John was biting his lip, already envisioning what it would be like to be inside of that fantastically cute, juicy little butt. He didn't want to say that he craved it or he needed it, but he did.

"Damn, I really want to fuck you," John gasped. Paul's lips were on that spot on his neck that drove him wild. He meant every word that he said.

"Then let's do it, fuck me, John. Fuck me!"

John wrapped his arms around Paul's waist again, flipping their positions. He was already breathing heavy, probably even more aroused due to the risk of the door being open and Jim being in the house.

"Do you even have any idea what you are in for?" John said right into Paul's ear, nibbling lightly on the lobe.

Paul smiled. He wrapped his arms around John's neck, threading his fingers through his hair. He was rapidly entering a headspace where everything was white hot and perfect. 

The friction was only serving to make them more desperate. John quickly removed Paul's pajama bottoms, following up with his own. They were skin to skin for the first time and it was fantastic.

Paul ran his hands down John's chest and torso, enjoying the way his skin felt and loving the contours that were uniquely his. He reached down in between the older boy's legs, grabbing the base of his cock. It felt right to have it in his hands and more so with each stroke.

"Paul...babe...oh my god..." John moaned. He looked at Paul through heavily lidded eyes, already thinking about what was going to happen next. "Roll over,"

Paul gave him a quick nod and did as John said. He became pliable to John's touch, moving up onto his knees with the slightest tug. 

John leaned in, breath ghosting over the skin of Paul's pert ass. Paul shivered, either out of fear or anticipation, all of which washed away once the older boy's tongue made contact with his hole.

The boy froze and tensed up. John chuckled, the sound vibrating off of him. He had a vague idea of how this was supposed to work, but that didn't make it any less odd for him. 

"Should I keep going?" John asked, still very close to Paul's ass.

"Yes," Paul mumbled into his arm, mentally preparing for that oh-so-strange feeling.

John went back to using his tongue. He danced it around Paul's hole, lapping at him until he was able to delve inside. Paul squealed and his hips jerked, encouraging John to continue.

He moved his mouth up to the base of Paul's spine, running his teeth against protruding bones. He reached underneath him, running his hand along Paul's precome dripping shaft, squeezing him before dragging his fingers against the boy's spit wet hole. 

Slowly, he slid one finger inside of Paul, giving him time to adjust to the feeling before he moved. He curled that one finger up before pulling it out completely. He spit on his hand, thoroughly soaking his fingers. The next one would be better.

He pushed his index finger back in, curling it up in the same spot, perhaps just a little bit further. Soon enough he had stretched Paul to the point of adding a second finger. He scissored them apart at the end of each thrust, hitting every sensitive area on the way out. 

Paul gasped. The feeling was not completely uncomfortable. It did burn a bit, though. He knew he should have prepared himself before this. He felt so stupid for being so inexperienced, but he shut down the thoughts before he ended up saying something ridiculous.

John's fingers thrusted into him more rhythmically. He was beginning to enjoy it, especially when combined with the press of John's lips all the way up his back and his neck. Then, a third finger was added.

Then he hit  **that** spot. Paul's eyes shot open from the shock. He gasped and involuntarily arched his back further. This was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"John!" Paul shouted when those long, talented fingers struck that spot again. This time making his toes curl.

"Like that, huh?"

Paul shook his head yes, unsure if John could see him move.

John pulled away from Paul, ceasing all contact. Paul listened to the older boy rustling in his bag for something. He heard the sound of a wrapper and John's labored breaths.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his thigh, roughly rolling him over onto his back again. He looked into John's eyes with adoration. This was the man that he was definitely in love with and he was going to give him everything.

John caught him by the mouth. They shared a powerful kiss. Their tongues and teeth collided roughly, leaving swollen lips in their wake. Hazel eyes stayed locked onto dark brown ones, never daring to look away.

"Shit," John said through heavy breaths.

"What?" Paul asked, fear instantly washing over with the thoughts that John might regret all of this.

"You are so fucking beautiful right now and I am so not worthy and yet, here were are, and you are going to let me do this with you..." John trailed off, trying not to choke on his words.

"Are...you...are you...crying?"

"No," John mumbled.

Paul grabbed John by the back of the neck and held him close. "Then show me what you are capable of,"

John nodded, smiling wickedly. He took the base of his cock in his hands, stroking himself back to full hardness. He pressed the head against Paul's entrance, taking one last deep breath. He thrusted into him. He didn't want to waste any more of his time. He wanted this now.

Paul's jaw went slack. John pushed all the way in, loving the way he was enveloped by the tight, velvet heat.

"Wow,"

"Huh?"

"You are so fucking tight, feels so good," John grunted, beginning to move his hips.

He began to find a rhythm. Each thrust a little deeper than the last. Paul spread his legs further apart, wrapping them around John's waist to pull him even closer. John angled his cock to hit Paul's prostate, knowing just how to send his sweet boy over the edge.

Paul writhed beneath him as he thrusted in harder. The younger boy's back arched up again and he pushed his hips down against John's throbbing manhood. He was biting his lip to keep himself from screaming. He was so unbelievably close.

The snap of John's hips became more erratic. He continued to hit that bundle of nerves, combining it with the much needed attention to Paul's neglected shaft.

"Fuck, John! Don't stop!" Paul shouted a little louder than he should have.

John quickly clasped a hand over his boyfriend's mouth, nibbling on his jaw. "Come for me, Macca,"

Paul swallowed hard. The next thrust John gave did him in. He squeezed his legs around John even tighter, riding out his orgasm until his shaking legs gave out, spilling his release over into John's hand, completely spent.

John pulled out of Paul quickly, whipping off his condom and tossing it to the side. Two strokes of his cock later and he had come all over Paul's stomach and chest with the biggest smile he could fit on his face.

"That was fucking incredible, you are downright professional," John sighed, collapsing on the floor beside the younger boy. He had that same huge smile on his face and there was no way that it was going away.

"Uh-huh," Paul mumbled, running his fingers through the mess on his chest. It was already starting to dry on his skin.

"You alright?"

Paul nodded, tasting his finger before speaking. "You are really good at that,"

"Not too bad yourself," John chuckled, wiping the rest of the come off with a piece of discarded clothing he found on the floor. "I could lie like this with you forever,"

Paul grabbed what he hoped were his pajama pants and pulled them on. He noticed that his thighs sort of felt the way they did after a run, but he ignored it. He curled up against John, leg draped over the lower half of his body.

John pressed their foreheads together. Even in a room that was only dimly lit by streetlights he could see all of the magnificent features on his lunar princess' perfect face. He had a quick flashback to the moment they had first met. He had never been happier that he came into his life. He was pretty sure that Paul was what made him complete.

"Paul," He said before taking a deep breath.

"Yeah,"

"I love you,"

Paul's eyes lit up. "Really? You do? You're sure? Really?"

John kissed the boy on the nose. "Yeah, I love you,"

"I love you, too,"

"Can you promise me something?"

"Of course, anything," Paul replied quickly without even thinking. He didn't need to.

"Always tell me that. Every single day, no matter where we are in this whole wide world. I don't care if it is next week, or ten years down the line, twenty, if I am dead, you always have to say those words. Because, no matter what happens between us, in our lives, however it all may change, if I say crazy things or you find that you can't handle me, I will love you until I take my very last breath."

"I promise, but only if you promise to stop being so sappy. You can't keep doing this. You are the brain, I am the heart, you aren't supposed to keep having emotional outbursts every five minutes."

John laughed, resisting slugging him in the shoulder. He was too tired for it, anyways. Eventually Paul would have to move back onto his bed and they would have to go back to their normal lives, but for right now they had this moment, wrapped in each other's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I tried, like really tried, to make this sort of awkward and weird, but also while being sort of cute and adorable. Hopefully it was a success because this chapter literally killed me. I am so glad that I had the next part written already otherwise this fic might have been down for the count for a while, and I am not ready to give this madness up.


	15. I Hope It's Me And Love Love Love

John dropped his guitar out of his hands and let it slide against his body with the strap. He was sweaty and out of breath, which didn't seem right to him at all.

Then again, it had been almost four and a half hours.

"Fuuuuuuuuck," George groaned, sitting down for the first time since he set foot in Mimi's house.

"Aw, c'mon boys, we sound like we might actually be able to do this. Can't be stopping now!" Ringo shouted with enthusiasm that no one else could muster.

John dumped ice cold water over his and Paul's heads. It was a relief.

"You sit while you play the drums, Ringo, of course you are still revving to go," Paul said, readjusting his bass in his hands, for the fifth time.

"Where did you find this optimism of yours, anyways? Just the other day you had suggested that we would all fall flat on our faces." John mumbled, rubbing his temples. These damn songs were going to be ingrained in his poor brain forever. He couldn't wait to do something new. He knew full well that they would have to be original if they were actually going to get anywhere. Now, though, they needed to focus on sounding like a cohesive unit.

"I don't feel quite right, there's something in the air tttoo-night, must be the way she's looking at me, is there something wrong, is there something wrong with me," Paul sang, sort of to himself, tapping the rhythm with his foot.

John was impressed. This was the first time he had actually heard the boy sing out loud. And, boy, could he sing. He officially was going to have to start pulling some of the vocal weight. If it was possible, he was falling even more in love with him.

"George, you weren't kidding. Paul can sing." John turned toward his boyfriend, plaing his hands on either side of his face. "Baby, you are incredible,"

"You ARE insane,"

"I'm serious, you are great. You can probably do so much with those lungs. You also don't sound nasally like me."

Paul scuffed a foot against the ground. "I like your voice. I don't think it is nasally at all."

John kissed him on the forehead before pulling away. "We can be different, this will be what sets us apart. We will have two lead vocalists, and two backup singers who can step up and rock it out if the vocals demand it. A powerhouse band where everyone plays a part. Not interchangeable, but brilliantly one. We've got this."

Ringo smacked his hand against his drum kit. "Bad John Boy! That's too much energy!"

"Coming from the guy who just asked why we stopped playing? That's real fucking rich."

"It isn't all about that, it is also about the fact that you are obsessed with your boytoy and you think that he can do everything." Ringo sighed. "He's good. We get it. He's pretty, too. We'll put him in the front so he can distract the girls from both of our noses. But, as of right now, you need to accept that this band we have here, if you can even call it that, is a whole lot of nothing."

John reached into his back pocket and took out a flier that he handed to Ringo for a festival in the next city over. "A whole lot of nothing only has two weeks to become a whole lot of something,"

"It says we have to have a name and at least one original song," Ringo said, quickly reading it over.

John looked outside at the street. There had to be something out there that would give him inspiration for their name, even if it was only temporary.

"What about the Quarrymen? Ya know, in honor of the old high school, before it all got consolidated." John suggested.

"Well, that is kind of a tired idea, isn't it?" Ringo replied with raised eyebrows.

"Ugh, those cars are ridiculous. How can people drive those things? Such a waste of foreign engineering." George said, making a gagging sound at the car parked on the other side of the street.

Paul looked up. "Doesn't your mom drive a Volkswagen? What do you have against them?"

"Not Volkswagens, Slug Bugs!"

"I've always wondered why people called them that," Ringo chuckled, joining George and Paul near the window.

"Because it is a Beetle, a Volkswagen Beetle?" Paul said, looking for further guidance. "Beetles are bugs, people hit beetles, people hit you when they see one and say slug bug? I don't know. Funny looking cars, anyways."

"How awful is that metallic silver, too? Like, at least get an interesting color if you are going to do the horrid thing of driving a bug around." George continued on his anti-Beetle rant.

"Hm," John walked over beside them, staring outside at the VW Bug. "The Silver Beatles, anyone?"

"John Boy, are you seriously going to call the band that? Naming us after a random car?" Ringo asked.

"Better than the Silver Bugs, honestly, if you ask me," George grumbled, remaining unnecessarily irritated with that vehicle. 

"Actual bugs and actual cars aside, I think it has a nice ring to it. The Silver Beatles. Beat as in 'the beat goes on', not beet as in 'look at these beets in this can'."

"Why are there going to be beets in a can?"

"There are no beets in a can! I was just trying to make a point. Only beats. Les Beats." John tried to say the last part with a French accent. He miserably failed.

"So, are we The Silver Beatles or Les Beats?" George asked, raising his hand like a kid in class.

"Oh my god, get it together. Follow what I am saying. Listen to the words that are coming out of my mouth. The. Silver. Beatles. That's it."

"The Silver Beatles and their new original song called..." Paul said like an announcer.

John cocked his head back toward him and smiled. "Hello Little Girl,"

***

There had been something so nice about Paul feeling so comfortable in John's arms. He always let him sleep there, usually playing with his hair or stroking his fingers against his pale skin. He was such a beautiful example of a human being, maybe even more so in this state.

John slid his hand down to the small cuff bracelet on Paul's right wrist. It was leather, although probably vegan, and way too tight against his skin. John began to really think about it as he became familiar with the texture, wondering if he had actually seen Paul without it. And, then there was wonder about what might be underneath it, if Paul was hiding something.

"Paul? Paul, can you hear me?" He whispered, waiting for a moment to see if there would be some sort of response. 

Paul was still sleeping silently, barely even moving in John's arms. This left him thinking that it would be possible to take off the cuff. He just wanted, no, he needed to see what was underneath. 

He glanced around the living room, just one last time to be sure. He knew that his aunt wouldn't be home for at least another hour, but he still felt like he needed to be ridiculously careful.

Very painstakingly slowly removed the cuff off of Paul's wrist. Once the buckle was undone it came loose rather easily, able to be set aside while he uncovered the mystery.

He ran his fingertips along the skin. Aside from the obvious irritation from where the edges of the cuff had been digging into Paul's wrist, it did not seem like there was anything out of the ordinary. There was, however, a small bit of scar tissue towards the inside, feeling much like a cross pattern to the touch.

John grabbed his glasses and put them on to see better before lifting Paul's arm up to his face. He had been right, it had very obviously been a crisscrossed scar. Whatever had caused it had been a deep cut, right along the most prominent veins in that spot.

He studied it a little longer, noticing exactly where the cuts began and where they ended. They were deliberate with the intent to bleed being the goal. They had most likely been self inflicted with only one purpose.

The realization hit him hard like a brick. His breathing became shaky and he struggled to get the cuff back on Paul's wrist. Everything made sense in that moment and he hated himself for finding out this way. Yet, at the same time, he was glad to have known, the information filling in the gaps he had wanted to know about for so long.

Paul stirred awake, rolling onto his stomach so that he and John were chest to chest. "Hi,"

"Hi, sleep well?" John asked with a charming smile, hoping he didn't come off as too suspicious.

"Mm-hm, you're very comfy," Paul mumbled.

John brushed the hair off of his boyfriend's forehead before placing a kiss against him. "You are so cute,"

"You are wearing your glasses,"

John slid them on top of his head. "Better to watch you sleep that way,"

"Well, that got creepy real fast," Paul giggled, sitting up on his knees between John's legs.

"Maybe if you weren't so damn gorgeous, I wouldn't feel the need to stare at you all of the time," John said as he reached out to caress the boy's wonderful face.

Paul nuzzled against John's hand. "I love you, you beautiful weirdo,"

"Love you too, Macca, love you, too," 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...um...well... 
> 
> First things first: I based the whole silver beatle thing off of a conversation I had with a friend where we began cracking jokes about different band names, only for us to land on naming bands after bugs...and in this modern version after cars...
> 
> Secondly, that song that Paul was singing is a real song by a band called Palaye Royale. There is no significance here, it was just the first song that popped into my head that wasn't by The Beatles. So, yeah!
> 
> ALSO: there were hints at the issue before, but it never was said outright. It will be further addressed.


	16. You Can Talk To Me

"John! John!" A woman's voice shouted. 

Paul was pretty sure that he saw the boy's eye twitch upon hearing that sound. 

John took a deep breath and turned around, seeing a limping Yoko waving at him. He didn't know how he was supposed to react, if he should have waved back or ran away or helped her carry some of the equipment that she was attempting to lug around all by herself. Of course, she would be here, it had never crossed his mind before, but it made sense.

"Where the fuck is Ringo?" John asked under his breath while he waved at the woman who was now approaching them.

George and Ringo beat Yoko to their location. John wasn't particularly impressed with the expressions on their faces, either.

"Where's the fire, boys?" John asked them, watching both make desperate attempts to catch their breath.

Ringo was able to stand upright first. "You are not going to believe what just happened at the check in,"

"Certainly not if you don't tell me,"

"One of the bigger local bands that was supposed to play the main stage can't make it!" George blurted out.

"And this goomba told them that we would take their place!" Ringo shouted, shooting daggers at George with his crazy blue eyes.

John's lips parted for a moment. Then he immediately shut his mouth again. 

Paul stopped picking at his black nail polish to join the conversation. "Wait, how the hell are we going to do that?"

"We will play all of the songs that we have been working on, and then we will wing it from there, I guess?" John shrugged. "We'll be fine. We can do this."

"You're sure about that, are ya?" Ringo asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. We are risk takers. We are strong, and mostly talented. There isn't anything that we can't do. We are on our way to the top, I can feel it. Isn't a damn person here that is going to tell us otherwise!" 

By this point, limping Yoko who was carrying too much of her equipment by herself, was standing beside John. Yet, somehow, John was the only one who hadn't noticed the strangely dressed woman with the crutch. And, no one could tell exactly how any of that was possible.

She sat down one of her massive bags and tapped the boy on the shoulder, making his head whip back in her direction.

"Hiya, Yoko, how is it fucking going? Ya good? Are ya good?" He spit out with an expression on his face that could only ever be described as psychotic, wild eyes making even Yoko take a couple of steps back. 

"Uh...I'm well, yes, thank you for asking. Where have you been, dear? It has been a while since I have heard from you. I didn't even know that you had a band."

As the words were coming out of the woman's mouth, John calmed down. She wasn't harmful to him in reality and had yet to do anything exceptionally crazy towards him, despite everything that had gone on between them. It was probably a good thing that they were interacting again, at the very least to provide some sort of closure and introduce her to his Paul, who she most likely already was acquainted with. 

"The band is new, actually. Calling ourselves The Silver Beatles. Has a nice sound to it, I think. We are going to be playing one of the bigger stages now since someone couldn't make it out here today or something." Confidence was suddenly radiating out of John and he couldn't stop it, she brought all of the strange suppressed sides of him to the surface.

Paul wasn't one hundred percent sure what was going on, but he knew that he didn't like it. This was especially true with the way that Yoko was flirtatiously touching John's arm. He went on the immediate defense route, standing beside John and moving his arm around his waist.

John smiled. He loved the attention, and he loved that Paul was so willing to give it to him.

"Is Cynthia here?" Yoko asked, not really paying any mind to the young man who was holding himself protectively against John.

"No, we broke up. It just wasn't going anywhere with her, for plenty of obvious reasons. I wasn't too keen on her wanting to spend all of my money, she wasn't too keen on the fact that I would have rather spent my time sucking off cute brunette boys who play bass." John explained, wrapping his arm around Paul's shoulders.

"Isn't that your neighbor?" George asked Paul, trying to keep quiet as he brushed past them. 

Paul only nodded.

The lightbulb went off in Yoko's head. Her eyes met Paul's, then quickly darted back to John's. "Oh, right! Jimmy's boy! You're Paul! We've only seen each other once or twice, but I remember. When I saw John at your house the other day I just figured that you two were friends. It makes so much sense now, especially after the talk that Jimmy and I just had. Perfect sense!" 

"Perfect sense, everything, sensible, perfect," John said, imitating Yoko's annoying tone. "Right?"

Yoko cocked her head to the side. "Um, yeah, yeah, of course,"

"Well, it was very nice to see you again, Yoko. I promise not to be such a stranger next time, should be easier to see you since I am dating your neighbor. However, we have a show to go set up for."

"I'll be watching, dear," Yoko said, cheerfully, giving Paul an odd glance.

As soon as she was out of earshot John let out a disturbing series of groans for the rest of his bandmates to hear.

"Why yes, John, you are right, that was awkward, but you definitely were not helping the situation," Paul replied as if there had actually been words coming out of John's mouth, not just sounds.

Ringo and George just looked at each other with confusion. Neither of them understood Lennonese and they were not going to attempt to learn it, either.

"I know, I know exactly what I did. I'm an idiot." John muttered in response, apparently still capable of forming coherent sounding sentences.

"Okay, good," Paul said, kissing John hard on the lips. "Now, let's go show these people who the motherfuckin' Silver Beatles are!"

"Yeah!" George shouted happily.

"You will not be seeing her...just so we are clear..." Paul whispered, jabbing John in the ribs.

"I wasn't planning on it, geez,"

***

No one was really entirely sure how, but they did it. The Silver Beatles successfully performed in front of a large local crowd for the first time ever. It was better than any of them could have imagined. The boys were great, meshing together to make incredible music and making people clap along.

And, the girls seemed to eat it up. There was just something about John and Paul, their connection was incomparable. They worked together in perfect harmony, playing off of each other so well. It certainly didn't hurt that Paul was ridiculously adorable. That was what John was saying, anyways, and he could hardly keep his eyes off of the boy while they were on stage himself.

Yoko didn't approach them again after their set, which John had feared she would. If he wasn't careful around her someone was going to find out information that he wasn't ready to deal with just yet. The last thing he needed was for George, Ringo, or Paul to learn about them, especially Paul.

"That was...that was...perfection!" Paul stumbled over the words as the almond milk carmel macchiato John handed him took a good portion of his attention.

"It was really something, wasn't it?" John asked everyone with a toothy grin plastered on his face that only got bigger when he took a sip of his cold brew. "Mmm...caffeine is good."

Paul chuckled, nodding in agreement, taking another drink of his own beverage.

"So, Mr. Starkey, do you still think we are all going to fall on our faces? Or do you finally think The Silver Beatles actually have a shot?" John directed his attention to Ringo who had been silently sucking down an iced tea.

Ringo smiled. "I think we are going to be just fine. Look what I got from one of the promoters." He said as he placed a yellow flier on the table in front of them.

"What is this?" John grabbed it quickly, sliding his glassed back onto his face so that he could read what it said.

"This guy, he thinks that we are 'fab'," Ringo laughed. "He's...very, very, very gay..."

"That's good. He will fit right in with us, half of us anyways. Unless, either of you have anything that you would like to add?" John asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"You are insane," George mumbled.

"Anyways, the guy's name is Brian something or other and he wants us to play some 'art in the park' bullshit later this month. What do you think, John?"

"Well, fuck yeah, let's do this! We will be even more polished by the time the show happens. We can even have a few more songs...I've been working on some." John's excitement exploded out of him like a rocket taking off.

"You have, me too!" Paul shouted, feeding off of his boyfriend's sudden burst of energy.

John's eyes widened, but not because of what Paul had said. It was something else entirely. He saw something very small and wonderful outside. He had to have it.

He darted out the front door of the cafe after the tiny, black kitten. He immediately scooped the adorable creature up into his arms, holding it close to his chest. He snuggled the cute cat up against him, already in love. It was definitely going home with him.

"What just happened?" Paul asked, staring out the window at John.

"Um, if my calculations are correct, it appears that your boy just left you for a stray cat," George deadpanned.

John was waving them all outside, still holding onto the kitten.

The other three joined John. Paul scratched the cat behind the ears, finding it to be so soft and sweet. Even George and Ringo were smiling at it.

"I'm keeping her," John mumbled.

"Mimi going to be okay with that?"

"Don't care. I am still keeping her. I bet that there are others, too. Maybe there is a white one! Paul, we should go looking for them!"

Paul raised his eyebrows. "You want all of them?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Uh, probably because there could be tons and you live with your aunt,"

"She likes cats,"

The younger boy shook his head. "You don't need the whole litter, John, stop it. Can't you just start with one?"

John accepted defeat. Paul was forcing him to think clearly. If he started up his stray adoptions again his aunt would kill him. It wouldn't take long for him to be on the verge of becoming a crazy cat person, which had always been suggested to him by those who knew about his hidden obsession.

As far as he was concerned, it didn't matter. He really liked cats. He would start with one, for now, but he would not make any promises about the future.

"Cat is cute, though," Paul cooed, going right back to petting the kitten's black fur.

"What are you going to name her?" George asked, reaching out to join.

"Ha...I was thinking about naming her Salt," John announced, holding up his new pet. "I shall call her salt!"

"She's black,"

"Sh...don't be such a racist, George, names have nothing to do with color,"

Ringo shook his head. "Gosh, Paul, if you have kids with him in the future, do not let him pick the names...they will probably be Harry Potter spells for fuck's sake,"

They quartet shared a laugh, realizing just how ridiculous everything was becoming. Their lives were changing. Four individuals were coming together. And, this was just the beginning. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know...but like...things...foot....feet.....thighs...


	17. You Know What I Mean

"C'mere, baby, you are too far away," john slurred, tipping back his bottle of strange beer, if it was actually technically even able to be called beer. It was a malt beverage, that was all that he was certain.

Paul smiled and scooted closer to John. He was a little tipsy himself, which only seemed to make the decision to sit beside him better.

John rested his head on Paul's shoulder, nuzzling against him just a little. "Are you happy, Paul?"

"Of course, why would you ask something like that?"

"Because of this," He said, grabbing Paul's right wrist. "Because of yer cuff, you always wearing it, Paulie,"

"I like this cuff, my mother bought it for me before she died," Paul muttered, running his fingers along the worn out leather.

"I know what is under it, though. I know that you weren't okay. I love you, Paulie, I have to make sure that you stay around for a long, long time. I want you to be mine forever."

Paul pulled away. "How did you know about that?"

"It doesn't matter, Macca, just tell me that you are going to stay with me, and you will tell me if you ever start to feel not okay,"

"It does matter, John! How the hell did you find out!?" 

He didn't get a response. John had already passed out. He huffed and chose to lie back down beside him, figure it was easier to love him than fight him.

***

John was so eager to see Paul. It had been less than twenty-four hours, but he absolutely hated when they were apart. So, of course, he loved the fact that he worked so closer to the boy's house. 

He got into his car, making sure that everything was how he left it. He had felt a little bad about leaving the kitten he found behind the dumpster in his backseat all day, but she had food and water, and a makeshift litter box. She didn't seem to mind. There had been a nice breeze and he had left the windows down slightly for her to have extra cool air to breathe. 

"Hi, Pepper," He greeted the white cat as she crawled into his lap. "Are you ready to go meet my Paulie? I really think that he is going to like you. It is just a sneaking suspicion that I have, but I'll bet you all the catnip my money can buy that he will be snuggling you in no time."

The small white kitten was just what he had wanted when he had found his black one in the next town over. Now, he felt like he had the perfect pair. Compliments of each other. For what was Salt without a little Pepper?

He arrived at Paul's house in three minutes flat. He scooped up his little surprise in his arms and went up the stairs to knock on the door.

Never had he been more thankful for the fact that both Jim and Yoko were away at the same time.

Paul opened the door with a huge smile on his face. It might have been fair to mention that he was wearing nothing, but a pair of threadbare Batman boxers. John's mouth went dry and a good portion of the his blood went south of his brain. Waistbands should not have threatened to slip lower like that all on their own.

Paul's eyes stopped on the cat John was holding. It was so hard for him to not roll his eyes. "You have taken in another?"

"Yeah," John nodded, setting the kitten on the floor in Paul's kitchen. "Salt needed a friend, so I adopted Pepper...or rather, I found her behind the dumpster at work and decided to name her and make her mine."

"You're so cute," Paul said as he wrapped his arms around John's waist. "You are going to stop at two though, right?"

John in turn wrapped his arms around Paul's neck. "Sure, sure, but first...I want to get you out of those..."

Paul made a weak struggle to get away. "My dad might not be home, but Mike certainly is,"

John moved his hands down to fold the waistband of Paul's boxers just a little bit, exposing more skin. There was something so nice about his hip bones, but John couldn't put a finger on it unless he was actually touching him there.

"Alright, okay, so, we will just have sex on the other side of the house then, and we will do our best to keep quiet. Simple enough, right?"

"Other side of the house? My dad's bed? Are you crazy?"

"First of all, yes I am, I am completely crazy. I thought we already discussed that. Second, you kind of, sort of, already agreed to do it when we picked your brother up to go to that antique store."

Paul sighed. "I vaguely remember that, I was still so pissed off at him for kicking me out."

"Anyways," John mumbled before bending to scoop Paul up into his arms, causing the younger boy to yelp in shock. "We have much work to do."

John carried Paul into Jim's bedroom. He threw him down onto the bed, crawling up the length of his body until they were eye level. He thrust up against him and caught him by the mouth, lust and love already taking over the room.

He slid back down Paul's body. There was a trail of kisses left in his wake. He paused for a moment, hovering over the boy's hard cock. He mouthed at it through the fabric of those forsaken boxers that still covered that particular area, bringing Paul into his headspace just enough so that he could hook his fingers on the waistband and finally take them off.

As soon as the boxers were off Paul's cock stood straight up just for John. A wicked smirk unfolded across John's lips admiring the beauty of it. It was a gorgeous thing, and that was before he even factored in just how wonderfully thick it actually was.

"Yours has got to be the prettiest cock I've ever seen," He chuckled as he wrapped his fingers tightly around the base.

Paul leaned up, supporting himself with his elbows. "Seen a lot of them, have ya?"

"They say I'm a slut, but yet, you ask such a question,"

"Shut up and suck it, okay?"

John nodded. He leaned back in and swirled his tongue around the head, familiarizing himself with the shape again. He moved his lips around the shaft using a tauntingly slow pace, continuing on his tongue's path of rediscovery. He paid special attention to the underside, wanting to make Paul moan so nicely.

He moved his mouth up and down on Paul's throbbing cock, hand still stroking the shaft in his lip's absence. Paul twisted around, noises coming from him in a perfectly timed rhythm.

Suddenly, Paul sat up, still panting. He yanked John off of his dick and kissed him with everything that he had. He fumbled to take off John's work uniform, trying not to damage the buttons on the red shirt in a fit of frustrated desire.

John assisted the clothing removal, tossing everything that he was wearing to the side.

"I can't believe that we are going to do this...in here..." Paul said in between kisses and labored breaths.

"You never said for us not to..."

Paul grabbed John by the hair. "Seriously, I should not have to tell you to shut up more than once. Fuck me, John!"

"Okay, but next time you're gonna fuck me," John said, not faltering on the delivery of his words or the strength of the expression on his face as he dug into his pants pocket for something.

He pulled out a small bottle of lube and a condom, proving his intentions for this visit had been pretty solid from the moment that he had woke up at six thirty in the morning. Paul glared at him, but didn't say a word, allowing John to do what came next.

The auburn haired boy watched Paul intently. He poured the lube onto his hands, rubbing it along his fingers to fully coat them. He laid down beside the boy, urging him to lay on his side, as well. Paul turned his head back to kiss him, leaving the perfect opportunity for John to slide two of his fingers inside.

"J-John!" Paul hissed, moving his head a little more to get a better look at those dark, almond shaped eyes. 

John was moving much quicker, thrusting his fingers into Paul and stretching him quickly. Soon he was adding a third finger and curling them back in an effort to hit his prostate.

Paul whined, pushing himself back onto John's fingers, forcing them deeper inside, needing them to brush against that spot. He loved the way that it felt, but he rather enjoyed being impaled on John's cock so much more.

"God damn, you are so beautiful like this," John whispered.

"I'd suspect that you might agree with that statement more while deep in the throes of passion,"

John thrust his fingers into Paul even harder in response. He smiled at Paul's reaction, loving the way that his hips jerked. He repeated the motion, wanting him to do that again. 

He removed his fingers. Paul suddenly had a disappointed look on his face, hating the empty feeling. John moved above him, pulling him closer by the legs. He began searching for something to support Paul's back, noticing quite a few pillows at the head of the bed. "Which one does your dad use?"

"Why?" Paul asked, clearly a little concerned with where this might be going.

"No reason in particular, just curious," 

"The one with the dark read pillowcase,"

"This one?" John said, fluffing it in his hands.

Paul shook his head yes.

"Good," He laughed with a hint of his demented soul shining through, shoving it underneath Paul, forcing his hips to lift up just enough.

Paul's eyes widened, the realization of how devious this was culminating in high levels of shock and fear that were rising within him.

John quickly kissed it all away. He grabbed the condom that had been lying on the mattress beside them. He tore it open and Paul leaned up to take it away from him. The younger boy quickly rolled it over John's throbbing erection. The contact made him moan, not wanting to admit that his toes were to beginning to curl. He had a new drive to take control coursing through his veins. 

He smothered the giggle erupting from his young lover, capturing him in a passionate kiss. He fumbled with the small bottle of lube again, liberally covering his cock. Paul reached down between them, tugging on John's long shaft, helping him back to full hardness.

John let out an animalistic growl. He hooked an arm under Paul's right leg, angling himself to enter his tight hole. He thrust into him hard, causing him to cry out and the old bed to creak rather loudly. He did it again, wanting to bask in the hot velvet heat that enveloped his length, a new need to bury himself deep within the boy.

He pulled out. He grabbed his cock by the base and lead himself back in, running the head along the slick entrance before pushing inside.

Paul gasped. He closed his eyes tightly as John found his rhythm, thrusting inside of him all the way to the hilt. The sounds of heavy breathing and flesh hitting flesh taking complete control of the golf themed bedroom.

John snaked an arm around Paul's waist, moving him up enough to roll them over. Paul's eyes darted open in surprise, hyper aware of John's hands on his hips as the older boy leaned forward to kiss him once more.

"Move, its okay, I've got cha," John whispered in his ear, causing his face to flush.

Paul blinked a few times to indicate he understood. He slowly began to rock his hips, a certain angle hitting all of the right spots, causing his nerve endings to light on fire. Tingles shot off, up his spine from his very core, allowing him to pick up the pace.

John thrust his hips up with the roll of Paul's movements, always wanting to go deeper. He tightened his grip on the boy, using him as leverage to slam even harder into him. 

Paul placed his hands on John's shoulders, leaning forward to kiss his swollen lips. He slid forward, allowing John's cock to slide out of him just a little bit, feeling him across the entire length, before slamming his hips back down. He began rocking back and forth with the same rhythm as before. He sat up, grinding down onto John with a wild force. Paul had finally lost control.

"Ah...John! J-John! Fuck! Feels so good!" He cried out, his hands moving up to tangle in his own hair.

John sat upwards, wrapping an arm around Paul's waist and pulling him flush against him. He continued to buck his hips up into Paul's while the boy kept moving up and down on his dick. He could tell he was close, listening to the wonderful way the moans fell from his lips, almost erratic in time with is movements.

He used his free hand to grab a hold of Paul's thick manhood, stroking it in time with his thrusts. 

Paul threw his head back. John had hit his prostate one last time and threw him over the edge, entire body spasming, legs tightening around him. His orgasm ripped through his entire being, forcing him to cry out John's name as he came down hard from the high, his release coating the other boy's hands completely.

The sensation of Paul's body being overtaken by pleasure pushed John the rest of the way. His eyes rolled back into his head, the last thrusts he was capable of destroying his ability to function in waves. He bit down on Paul's shoulder to keep quiet, screaming through his release until he was spent and couldn't bare to move again.

When their breathing returned to normal, it became extremely quiet. Save for the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.

Paul reached over to pull back the beige curtain ever so slightly, just barely in order to see if there was indeed a red SUV in the parking spot by the window. "Shit! He's home! Hurry! Get your clothes and run into the other bathroom."

"What about you? What about the bed? What are you going to do?" John asked frantically as he snapped out of his post coital bliss.

"I'll figure it out, okay? Just move your ass!" 

John booked across the house completely naked, making it into the bathroom just as the front door opened. He leaned up against the sink, breathing heavily. He could not believe how close that almost was, but he didn't regret it. Not even for a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not as good as I wanted it to be...but I'm suffering from a temporary block due to some issues...I'm working on it...just something about this couple renders me incapable of writing...not sure...anyways...other interesting things will be happening...obviously....


	18. After A While You Start To Smile

When John finally composed himself and left the bathroom he was surprised to see a fully clothed, smiling Paul and a very calm, not suspicious looking in the slightest Jim sitting on opposite couches. Nothing seemed amiss. Paul's hair was still a mess, but it appeared that he had taken care of everything else.

He could not have been more relieved. 

"John! Good to see you. Thought you might never come out of there. Was about to send in a search crew." Jim greeted him. John wasn't sure, but it sort of sounded like the man had already been drinking and was definitely working on another beer.

He noticed that Paul was drinking, too. He also had another bottle of the lemon flavored beer sitting between his legs, a fact that John lingered on for far longer than he should have. 

As soon as he sat down beside him that bottle was offered, still as icy cold as the back of the refrigerator it had been sitting in.

"Thank you," He half mumbled before taking a swig.

"Are you staying over tonight? I told Paul it would be alright if you did." Jim asked, the slur a bit more obvious now.

"Actually, I do have to head home and help my aunt with something. Might stop by a friend's for a minute after that. I was going to pick Paul up later. I invited George and Ringo over for an impromptu rehearsal before we meet with the Epstein guy on Thursday." John explained.

"Epstein? Brian Epstein?" Jim questioned the boys with raised eyebrows. "Is this the same Brian Epstein I keep hearing about at work, from those art shows and such? His family owns the music store in the next town over near the old courthouse, I think. What does that flamer, no offense, want with you?"

"He approached our drummer, wants us to play a 'art in the park' in the small village in between here and the next county. Kinda hoping he still likes us as much as he did when we played the other day." John said with a smile.

"As long as you two are careful, never know what these kinds are up to, and I am not talking about the gay types...talking about those music types. There are a lot of sharks out there."

John rested a hand on Paul's thigh. "I don't think that you will have to worry about us,"

"Good to know that you will be looking after my boy,"

John kissed Paul on the cheek before standing up to leave. He was already unfortunately late, and not to help his aunt Mimi. "I'll swing by and get you later, baby,"

"Okay, bye, John,"

The older boy began to walk away before he realized that he was forgetting something. "Say, anyone see my cat?"

***

The tattoo parlor was pretty empty for the afternoon. For this, among other things, John was thankful. He felt more at ease knowing that this trip, or detour rather, would likely be uneventful.

He walked towards the back, immediately greeted by the electrical buzzing sound of the tattoo guns. The last chair beside the back door contained a woman with a familiar face. She was why he was here.

"Is it alright if I pull up a chair?" He asked the artist at work.

The man with the tattoo gun in his hands barely even gave him a nod, concentrating more on the task at hand. The orange and aqua laced mermaid with peacock feathers for hair seemed like just the kind of design she would have wanted on her shoulder. It was intricate and bordered on the avant garde. John instantly understood why the man was so severe and silent.

"Hm, I didn't actually think that you would come," She mused, corners of her lips turning upwards in a very slight smile.

"That's a load of crap and you know it," John grumbled.

"Maybe, maybe not, it is so hard to tell. The way that you follow around that boy of yours..."

"Leave Paul out of this, Yoko. I am not joking. This is about you and me. We are hashing this out, once and for all."

"You know what would be so cute? If you and your Beatles got matching tattoos. Just a little something that will hold you all together, even years down the road."

John huffed. "Why is it so hard for you to be straight with me?"

"I could ask the same of you, John. I knew going into this that it would never be the most powerful relationship, seeing that you had this preconceived little notion that you were only able to be happy with another man. Yes, I was aware even though you didn't tell me. I am still pretty sure you even gave that wretched little witchling Cynthia more time of day than you ever did me. All that time you spent screwing me behind her back, and for what? What John? Why did you do it?"

"Same reason that you were screwing a gay guy, I suppose. Experimentation. Your reasoning is still a little cloudy to me. Mine is much clearer. I wondered if maybe I was bisexual and just struggled with Cynthia because she's...her. She wasn't my equal."

Yoko rolled her eyes. "You were a beautiful model and I liked you. Those were my reasons. Pretty clear. I was beginning to think that you might have liked me, as well, or that there were at least some positive feelings involved."

John took a deep breath. "There might have been some at one point, yes, but that does not change where we are now. I am a gay man and I am really fucking proud of that fact and the fact that the world we live in allows me to be out and proud with the man I fell in love with. You are a bisexual woman who had a passing fancy for a boy who was young and dumb. That is it. This, this is it. Eventually, after some time and healing, perhaps we can be friends. Until then, you are nothing more than my boyfriend's neighbor."

John got off the chair he had been sitting in. He waved goodbye at Yoko and walked towards the back door. He needed the rest of his time before he picked up Paul to clear his head. Somehow this had become too much way too quickly. He could feel his anger bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to force him to explode.

Yoko stopped the artist for a moment, taking off after John. "Lennon!"

"WHAT!?" John shouted, turning on his heel toward the woman in the tiny black tank top. He hated that she never wore a bra.

"We lost a baby, John, and then you just stopped talking to me, why?"

"Because you and I were not in love...you kept the baby from me until it was too late...do you realize how messed up I am because of this!? You're an adult! I was just a kid! I am still basically a kid! I can't even look in your eyes without thinking about it...all of it!"

"John..."

"No, you don't get to talk yet! I never once blamed you for any of the crazy shit that happened when you were around! I only ever blamed myself! I spent so long trying to convince myself that I was the one at fault because I wasn't strong enough or smart enough...anything that meant that it had nothing to do with you! Fuck! It was not even until after I saw you the other day that it all clicked. You took advantage of me and my issues, my mother and her death! It is time for us both to move on..." He collapsed down onto his knees, tears running down his face. All of his attempts to remain stoic faltered and failed completely. He had made a terrible mistake in meeting her there and it was only becoming more and more clear.

The thought that he could have been having dinner with Paul's family instead of going through the worst mental breakdown of his life only served to crush his spirits more. All of this hit him like a sixteen wheeler, leaving him feeling weak and desperate.

He didn't even try to push Yoko away when she kneeled down beside him and wrapper her arms around his shoulders. He only continued to cry until his eyes were sore.

Images of everything came rapidly rushing back to him. His mother, his aunt, his uncle, Paul, Cyn, his first guy friend he had a crush on, Yoko. He didn't understand why it was all showing up so quickly. He only knew that it all hurt.

"I'm sorry...for everything..." She whispered softly in his ear, wanting more than anything to have a way to soothe him, to take all the pain away, knowing she had caused some of it. He was just a broken boy.

"I'm...sorry for deserting you...for not being there for you after the miscarriage, I will never forgive myself for that,"

"It...it is okay, John. It is all okay. We will be fine. We were not meant to be anything more than a mess. Maybe, I needed this to convince me of that. I care about you, a lot. And, I am sorry that I didn't tell you sooner."

John grabbed both of Yoko's hands, pressing his lips softly against the top of each one. He composed himself and pushed her away. He rose to his feet and pulled out his phone. He had decided that it would be better if he wasn't alone with his thoughts. 

He ran one of his hands through his hair, listening to the ringback tone. "See ya around, girl, hope your tattoo turns out,"

The phone was picked up.  _"Hey, John, what's up?"_

"Paul...um...we need to talk,"


	19. Baby's Good To Me

Paul held onto John with everything that he had. He refused to ever let go. It was quite the difference from what he had done only a few minutes prior, the sting still resonating like a sharp sound against John's cheek. It hurt like hell, but he had deserved it. And, it managed to clear some of the cobwebs from his head.

His love for this beautiful boy was confirmed to the highest level. He had listened. He allowed John to tell him everything and get the weight off of his shoulders. He didn't shy away from him when the tears welled up in his eyes, occasionally running in streams down his face. He was the perfect example of a true partner. John didn't think it was possible for him to be more perfect.

When it was all over Paul didn't look at him any differently. He didn't seem to judge him. He just stayed by his side, holding him close.

"I love you, John Winston Lennon, and there is nothing that you can ever do to change that. I love you, always."

"And I, love you, more than anything, more than anyone, ever," 

Paul grabbed John by the chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. "No more surprises, okay?"

John nodded. "None, promise,"

"We are not going to randomly run into anyone else you've slept with, right?" 

"Eh...that one is kind of iffy...I promise that we won't run into anyone else that I've accidentally gotten pregnant..." He replied with a weak chuckle.

"Do you really want to get slapped again?" Paul asked, ready to raise his hand up.

John shook his head no, fully prepared to dodge another one of Paul's hard hits.

"Then don't say things like that,"

"Alright. Alright. I won't. I promise."

"Good," He said smiling. "And, um, to answer your question from the other day, I am happier than I have ever been. I feel complete for the first time since my mother died. I know that it is because of you. I wanted to be with you when I did this, I am taking my cuff off. I don't want to hide it anymore. There is no reason to."

Paul removed the leather cuff, setting it off to the side of John's bed. He held his wrist up for John to see. This time he was able to pick out other scars and cuts, the cross still being the most prominent. He took Paul's petite wrist in his hands, pulling it to his lips and kissing the very center, right where the veins were the closest to the skin.

"I am not always going to be okay, but I promise that I will tell you before it gets this far again. My scars are the reminders to never get that bad before I seek help. I know you'll be there for me." Paul continued, his voice much softer now. "And, I know it is different, but I'll be there for you, too."

They heard the distant sound of George's rather distinct, almost Sheldon-esque knocking on Mimi's front door. That meant that he and Ringo were finally there and they might actually be able to get some work done.

John hopped up and took off down the stairs, determined to beat Mimi. Paul just laughed, going to follow him at a much safer pace. He took one look back at his cuff, feeling an attachment to it because of who it was from, but still liberated to not have it on. He thought of his mother for just a moment, wondering what she would think of this whole thing. 

***

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! John! Oh my god....John!" Paul was trying not to shout, rather unsuccessfully, body writhing and threatening to slip down the wall.

Things had definitely not gone according to plan. For starters, Paul had never intended to be pressed up against the wall of a the handicapped stall, face becoming very familiar with the cool tile. This was not what they were supposed to be doing in the mall. This was bordering on the ridiculous.

John lifted his head up to catch his breath. "Turn around, love,"

"No,"

John took matters into his own hands, forcing Paul to turn around. With his back now against the wall, John could finish him off properly.

He wrapped his lips around Paul's thick, throbbing cock, getting right back to work.

"Uh...John? Paul? You in there?" Ringo called into the large, mostly silent, mostly empty bathroom.

"Y-ya-yesss!" Paul cried out, this time sounding stupidly obvious above all else.

"Um...okay, right, well, do either of you want anything from Starbucks? George and I are going to go to the kiosk. We've only got about twenty minutes until Brian is supposed to meet us here."

Paul moaned. He was struggling to keep the sounds of his pleasure quiet. John was loving every minute of it.

"Sh-sshure, Rings, iced almon--d m-ilk m-mo-cha please....fuck...ah...John...wants a f-f-flat white!" Paul's control slipped and his body took over. He figured at this point there was no use trying to convince anyone that they were not fooling around in the last stall.

Paul bit his bottom lip, looking deep into John's gorgeous brown eyes. Tears were welled up in the corners, somehow making them even more pretty. The only thing that he found better was those swollen, debauched looking lips wrapped so nicely around the shaft of his cock.

"Alrighty then...hurry up, will ya?"

John bobbed his head up and down a little faster, occasionally taking Paul all of the way until his nose was buried into the boy's skin. Paul's hands were laced through his hair, controlling his speed whenever he got off track, seemingly taking Ringo's words seriously.

"John...John I'm..." Paul tried to warn him.

John took him to the hilt again, swallowing every last drop as the orgasm tore through him. He finally pulled off of him with an obscene plop, wiping the corners of his mouth off and standing back on his feet again.

He placed his hands on either side of his lover's flushed face. He kissed him hard before moving away. "You're so damn pretty," He giggled, voice rough.

"Why do you always want to have sex in places where we could get caught?"

"One of my many kings, Paul, one of my many kinks. Hold on tight and I might let you in on a few others." John said smugly, helping Paul straighten out his clothes. "Come on, let's go meet Mr. Brian Epstein."

Paul watched John move right past the row of sinks. "Aren't you going to wash your hands?"

John shook his head. "Na, kinda like the idea that I am about to shake a man's hand and I might have dried cum somewhere on me,"

"That's disgusting, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"So, so many things, my love, more than you can ever even imagine,"

***

"You did not," John laughed, playfully hitting Brian on the shoulder. "That is just crazy talk, no one thinks that,"

"I am serious. I actually used to think that gunpoint was a real place. The news would always say things like 'a couple was held at gunpoint' or 'tourists were terrorized at gunpoint' and I kept thinking, why do people keep going there? With a crime rate like that it just didn't make any sense." Brain continued his story, making the boys crack up.

Epstein was ridiculously charming. He was effortless with the flow of his words. He had them all hanging on to everything that he said. It didn't take long for him to convince them that this next show would be even bigger than the last, and that they should agree to performing at all of the upcoming festivals in the area, and possibly two club shows.

He promised them that he could manufacture an interest in their band. He would create a buzz. It was all so simple, he swore by it.

"This all sounds great and whatever, man, but we are not exactly prepared to be touring the tri-county area. The summer is almost over, our boys George and Paul here will be going back to school, we have jobs, and we certainly do not have a manager to make all of these arrangements for us when we can't." John told Brian, resting his head on Paul's shoulder.

"About the manager thing, I was kind of hoping that you might allow me to step into that roll. I think that you boys are great, and I think that this could be the perfect fit."

"A promoter as our manager? Do you even have any experience?" Paul asked, now holding John's hand.

"No, but I get the basics of the job. I am sure that we can all figure this out together. A learning experience for all of us." Brian explained.

John tapped the fingers on his free hand against the table. He was studying Brian's face, searing for any signs of bad intent. This tight jean and t-shirt clad loudmouth was actually a seemingly decent person. 

"Sounds good, of course, John has the final say so. He's the brains behind this bang up operation." Ringo said, softly. He was so damn fidgety that he had to speak. He had been throughout this entire thing. It was taking a lot out of John to not buy him a cube or a spinner in order to occupy him. 

John held his hand out to Brian. "Well, Mr. Manager, lets do this! We will just have to figure everything else out along the way."

"Perfect," Brian accepted his handshake. "We can get to work right away. Work on a look for you. Perhaps, we will find a way to take a little bit of the focus off of John and Paul's rather obvious loving gazes, always staring at each other. We can put some focus on George and his pretty eyes, Ringo's sweet face. We don't need to alienate any fans this early on, especially the girls, because the two of you can't stop doing things like what you are doing right now. The sex hair is pretty clear, too."

John lifted his head up off of Paul's shoulder. "Yeah, well, I'm not going to stop touching my boyfriend because you think it looks bad for our image. I'm gay and I don't give a fuck who knows it. You're gay too, don't know what the issue is."

"I'm not saying that, I understand completely. I am just saying that maybe you should tone it down."

"He's right, John," Paul mumbled.

"Fine, whatever. We will try to be more discreet." John grumbled, backing down. "Whatever you say, Mr. Manager,"

Brian chuckled. He placed a hand on his forehead and shook his head. These boys were going to be nothing, but trouble, he knew it.

 

 


	20. Not The Hurtin Kind

Paul waited for his father to get home from work before he told him anything about their meeting with Brian. It was too big of a deal to tell him over text, especially considering what he was about to suggest. It made him so incredibly nervous.

He paced. Couldn't stop. Mentally he was trying to prepare himself for the possibility of a potential screaming match with his father. That was the worst case scenario as of right now.

"Would you stop that? You are making me nervous, and my parents agreed to this in seconds flat...something about the poor public school system here."

"You still haven't even told them about the band yet, Geo. What do they think that you have been doing all of this time?"

George laid back on Paul's extremely messy floor, putting his hands behind his head. He was suddenly very amused with the jet black ceiling. It made everything look so close and comfortable. "I tell them that I am keeping you from doing anything too terribly stupid,"

"Nice, that's all I need is for your parents to think that I have finally lost my damn mind,"

"Can't lose what you never..." George stopped mid thought and his eyes went dangerously wide with the threat of popping out of his head to dangle from bloody cables like in a cartoon. He felt something when he had moved his hand, a piece of rubbery feeling trash that had somehow wound up underneath his head.

"What's wrong?" Paul asked, trying not to laugh at his friend's terrified face.

George moved the object into his view, needing to confirm that he was right about what he was touching. "Ah! What the hell!? Throw this away! Disgusting!"  He shouted as reality sank in and he tossed it at Paul.

Paul held it in his hands for a few seconds, processing what had just happened. And then, he busted out laughing. 

"Oh yeah, very funny, Paul. How would you feel if you found one of those that had been around my cock?"

Paul properly disposed of it, finally. "It wasn't on  _my_ cock,"

"That does not make it any better, Paulie! It is still so gross! You really need to clean your room!"

"It is quite alright, George. It is not nearly as frightening as the one that I found while cleaning the bathroom that did not seem to make it into the garbage can, either. I was a bit shocked, actually, especially considering the fact that it was not supposed to be happening, especially in my house." Jim McCartney said with a wide grin on his face, despite the fact that he was giving his son the glare of death with eyes that appeared dead like a shark.

"Oh, fuck me," Paul muttered under his breath. He was definitely in trouble this time.

"George, I think it would be for the best if you went home now,"

George quickly got up to leave, stopping just as he passed Paul's dad. "Alright, I'll be seeing you all. And, Mr. McCartney, I know for a fact that you do not like what Paul has been doing, with John, all of it, but don't be too hard on him, okay? At least he hasn't ran off and gotten some poor girl pregnant. He's happy, remember that. John is a good guy. He's good for him, somehow."

"Move along now, George,"

Jim and Paul stood in the messy bedroom, staring at one another. They both had so much to say and no idea how to say it.

Paul had the sneaking suspicion that his conversation about his schooling situation was going to be a lot less civil now. 

"Come now, into the kitchen, Paul. We'll make some coffee and have a real talk about all of this.

Paul only nodded, following his father out the door.

***

"I know that you think I am just being a ridiculous old man here, but I honestly do not want you and John to have...relations. I want it even less if it is going to happen under my roof. John is eighteen, practically and adult despite the way that he seems to act most of the time, and you are sixteen. I do not approve of it. I am still struggling to wrap my head completely around the concept of the two of you being a couple. Although, I think I have been doing a pretty good job. I like John. I like that you do not seem to be as quiet and you are opening up. However, I do not like the fact that he has you doing that sort of thing."

Paul looked down into his cup of coffee, swirling around the dark liquid that was lightened by the carmel flavored almond milk creamer he added. "About that, um, you see, the thing is, it was actually my idea the first time. He wanted to wait, but I...did not. I mean, it was not hard to convince him, but it was certainly not his idea."

Jim's eyes grew large. "Maybe, I'd rather not talk about this. How did your meeting with Mr. Epstein go?"

"It went well. Very well, in fact. He wants to, or I guess is going to be our manager. He has a big, long list of local shows he already is planning for us to play. Because of this, we want to make sure that there is nothing in our way. We might actually start to make money this way. 

"Oh?"

"Which brings me to something that I need your permission for...I would like to switch to online schooling...so that we...can tour further than just the nearby cities. I know it sounds crazy, but this is what I want."

"You want me to sign off on you quitting school? Are you nuts?"

"I am not trying to quit school. I want to simply switch to the online program. It would free up my days, I'd still be doing all of my regular work, I might even be able to graduate earlier. George's parents have already agreed. I really want this. Even if our band never gets anywhere big, these experiences will last me a lifetime." Paul explained in the sweetest tone that he could muster, mimicking one he heard John use on Mimi, hoping his father would be able to see it his way.

He even took extra care to force his bare right wrist into Jim's view. If it didn't work to serve as a reminder of how far he had come, then it was a symbol of just how fragile his mental state actually could be. It had been years since he hadn't worn the thing. It was not a game that he typically liked to play, but if it worked he was more than willing to use such dirty tactics.

Jim put his hands in a steeple, studying his son. he had changed so much in such a short period of time. It all started to make sense. Everything from the chipped black nail polish to all of the black clothes and everything in between. He was growing up, becoming his own person. And, he was smiling again. John Lennon and The Silver Beatles did good things for him.

The man took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, we will do this on a trial run only. The second that I think anything is going on that I do not like or your grades start to slip I will be re-enrolling you in regular public school. There will be no partying until the sun comes up, there will especially be no partying in my house, and if you are going to be away from home for longer than a day I need to know in advance. I expect there to be adult supervision at all times, and I do not consider John to be that. I want to meet Mr. Epstein as well, sooner rather than later. You are still only sixteen, remember that, and you do not get to run rampant all over the state. Understand?"

"Really? Really?" Paul's face lit up.

"Yes, but I can't say that I like it. Apparently, that is going to be a trend with you now."

"Holy crap,"

"What were you going to do if I had said no?"

"Honestly? File for emancipation." Paul laughed.

Jim raised his eyebrows. "I certainly would not have agreed if George was not going with you. Also, I am pretty sure that you can't do that."

"He's younger than me and you act like he is my babysitter,"

Jim shot his son a serious look. Paul had gotten the answer that he wanted, it was for the best if he didn't press his luck.

"Thank you!" Paul switched his tone, jumping up from his seat and trapping his father in a tight embrace. "Thank you so much! I won't let you regret it! I promise! I will make you so proud!"

"Paul," Jim began. "I am already so proud of you and the man that you have become. I'm proud of your drive and your determination. I am proud that you have overcome so much for someone so young. You are following your dream. Even as a kid, your mother, she just knew...she knew it was music. You are so incredibly gifted. Now, I might not always like what is going on with you or the choices that you are making, but I know that I shouldn't try to fight it. I love you, kid. Don't always know how to show it very well, but I do."

Paul blinked back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. "Stop dad, you are going to make my makeup run,"

Jim cringed in an oddly comedic way. "Never ever thought that I would have heard that line come out of your mouth,"

Paul only shrugged, dabbing his pinky at the corner edge of his eye. He had to smile. Life was good. 


	21. But Listen To The Color Of Your Dreams

"The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history." John recited, bent down on one knee, oozing drama in the middle of the local outlet mall's pavilion. 

"Are you seriously doing this right now, John?" Paul asked with raised eyebrows. The place was incredibly busy and this was the exact opposite of what they were supposed to be doing.

"Is it just me, or would John speak in Oscar Wilde quotes all of the time if it suited him?" George asked, aware of all of John's books and the tattoo on his shoulder. 

"I have nothing to declare except my genuis," 

"Oh good, now you've got him on a roll, we'll never stop him now," Paul mumbled, scuffing his boot against the cement.

"I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best."

"Oh my god. Please. Stop." 

George busted out laughing. "It's like he's in a trance,"

John blinked rapidly a few times before standing up and brushing off his clothes. "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it,"

"Enough. We need to get the four of you into proper clothes before your next performance. Let's try to keep the shenanigans to a minimum, please." Brian finally spoke up, sounding more like a teacher directing a class than a manager. Or, at least, like a parent, even though he definitely was not old enough to be any of theirs.

"Epps. Eppy. Epp-ster. Epp-man. My main man. John Lennon will make no such promises!" John shouted in an Indian accent.

Brian huffed. "What if I allowed you to assist in creating your look?"

"That depends, can I wear bondage pants?"

"I meant within reason, Lennon," Brian added to his original comment.

John made a strange face at the man, leaving him guessing what his next move was going to be. He grabbed Paul by the arm, dragging him away. He knew exactly what store he wanted to play in.

***

The music in the store was loud, simply for the sake of being loud. It had something to do with the type of store, it did actually make sense, but it was still really loud. The walls were black, the floors were black, most of the clothes that they sold were black. It had Paul's name written all over it.

Of course, all four were more than okay with the store. It was basically the best place for them to shop, minus a thrift store.

Brian, on the other hand, was not nearly as impressed. He did not like the idea of them wearing typical gear more suited to an emo teenager than a band. He would have much rather had them looking a bit more professional. 

Paul stopped in front of a pair of red plaid pants. They were for girls, but it would not have been the first time he wore them. It was a thought that made him chuckle, remembering the first time his father had realized he had been shopping in the girl's section.

He reached out and ran his hands along the smooth fabric. The pants had a nice stretch to them, and the details were impeccable. It was always so hard for him to resist decorative zippers and patch work.

"I think that you should buy them, like really, you should do it. You've got the legs for them."

Paul spun around, a big startled by the sound of a feminine voice. He was greeted with the warm smile of a pretty, fair skinned girl with teal blue mermaid hair that complimented her gorgeous blue eyes. Paul was taken aback by the very sight of her, completely lost in time as he got caught in her powerful gaze.

"Hi, um, thanks?" He mumbled, scanning the room for any sign of his boyfriend who had magically disappeared into the great beyond.

"I was serious about what I said. I am not trying to make a sale, really. You've got the look, all you need to do is show me the money." The girl said with a laugh.

She never did stop staring at him. He wondered if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but it also made him wonder how it was possible that John had not come over to mark his territory in that obnoxious way he did. He was absolutely amazed.

"I probably will get them. The nineties vibes are screaming at me. I can't let them get away." 

"You're funny. If you need any help with anything, just let me know. Name is Lynda, by the way."

Paul's eyes drifted down to her nametag that was attached by a long, black lanyard. If he opened his mouth now he was going to say something stupid.

"Lynda with a y,"

"Yeah, well, actually...it is Linda with an i, but I changed it to y because it was bad enough that I managed to get stuck with the name. I had to have something unique about it. It is pretty strange that I am seventeen and got stuck with a name that makes it sound like I am in my fifties."

"I know what you mean. Mine is a family name, but you do not exactly hear of many people named Paul these days."

Lynda giggled. She flirtatiously tucked her wavy blue locks behind her ear and smiled that same lovely smile that had held his attention so well the first time. "Paul, I think your name kind of suits you, honestly,"

"I bet that he didn't tell you that his first name isn't Paul, it is James. He's a Jim. Paul is his middle name, which he has chosen to go by in order to differentiate himself from his father. Paul does suit him though, if my opinion matters." John brashly wedged himself in between Paul and Lynda. He did not approve of their current closeness.

"Really, John?" Paul muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, really, this is one hundred percent happening,"

"Is he your older brother?" Lynda asked Paul, unsure of what to make of this situation. 

"Boyfriend, as a matter of fact, I don't look anything like him," John laughed a little on the psychotic side.

"Oh," She covered up her surprised and disappointment rather quickly. "You two look good together. I totally see that now."

"Screw you, Winston," Paul grumbled. 

"What did you just call me?"

"I am pretty sure that you know," Paul scoffed. "You are blind, not deaf,"

"I am going to punish you for that one, James-y boy, just you wait and see,"

"Try me,"

Lynda's eyes bugged out. She had to remove herself from the conversation and move as far away from the odd dynamic as possible. This was just escalating at an alarming rate. 

"John! Come try on this jacket! I think that it is in your size!" Ringo called out.

"I'll be right there," He called back, attention flipping back to Lynda directly after. "And, yes, he does have nice legs."

John walked away to join Ringo on the other side of the store. Paul and Lynda simply stood in silence, trying to decide what to say next to each other, if anything at all.

"Your boyfriend...is he kinda...mean to you?" Lynda whispered.

"More like abrasive and sarcastic to everyone. He can take some getting used to. He is more along the lines of red wine than mass produced beer if you know what I am saying."

Lynda nodded. "I know what that's like. Hm, alright, well, let's go pick out some other pieces to compliment your new plaid pants. What do you say?"

"Sounds like a fantastic idea to me," Paul announced, aware that she was the only one paying any attention. he held out an arm for her, which she graciously accepted. He wasn't going to let his sudden lack of inclusion of the group get in the way of his fun. 

***

Brian was rather proud when it was all said and done. He had somehow convinced the boys into two different looks, one of them leaning more towards the professional image that he had conjured up for them, and one that fit their own personal style a bit more.

They had only agreed because it was just one suit per member. Their own self designed looks consisted of four ensembles a piece. And, their look didn't make them feel like monkeys or robots, with the suits had. They were four individual, not a set of clones, and they wanted to make sure they were treated as such.

"We are rockers, not butlers," John's private words to the band were enough to ease their minds. Brian was their manager, John was still the leader. He wasn't going to let anyone forget about that. 


	22. She Was Only Seventeen

Paul and Lynda clicked. They were kindred spirits, both animal lovers and both fascinated by the noir. There had been a magnetic pull between them, an outside force that wanted them to be in each other's lives. Lynda said that they must have been star crossed, fated to be together in every lifetime, this time as friends.

"So, what is John doing today? I barely ever see one of you without the other. It is like you two are attached at the hip, or at least he is, you, maybe not so much." Lynda said as she busied herself with adjusting the old camera in her hands to the proper setting. There were far too many fantastic headstones in the cemetery to not take pictures.

"I am actually just as bad, maybe worse, I am simply a little better at concealing it. I love him, I think he is basically as perfect as they come and he makes me better." Paul sighed, leaning against one of the larger monuments. "He is actually at work, though. He is putting his notice in tonight. I did mine yesterday. He can't exactly be the restaurant's night manager if most of the nights he works we will hopefully be playing shows."

Lynda snapped a few quick shots of Paul. She absolutely loved the way the light from the overcast mid afternoon sky reflected off of his face. He was lovely. "That's right! Art in the Park! You will be playing bass as one quarter of the four piece band known as The Gray Bugs." She laughed.

"The Silver Beatles," Paul corrected her in jest.

"Why not just The Beatles or even just Beatles or The Silver, even. Your band name brings thoughts of old men singing music from the fifties and sixties, not a group of rockers wearing too tight Aiden tees and ripped skinny jeans."

"Hm,"

"Of course, I will also be there selling my healing crystal jewelry and prints from my black and white series. Still think you should let me make copies of the velvet rose pic. I think you would make our Gothfather very happy. He'd be pleased beyond compare, especially with your hair." She quickly switched gears, finding another grave to fall in love with.

Paul took a deep breath, not realizing that he had begun to sink down into the ground where he was standing until his boot got stuck. The old cemetery was on a hill and even the tiniest bit of rain would cause the dirt to turn to complete mush. Years of heavy erosion had already done a number on the land, the original outliers of the gravesites that bordered the man made lake had long since washed away. And, only an idiot would try to say that the white slabs of rock with the lightly visible etchings and the cemented bases that made up most of the rocks on the shoreline were not from some of the older graves.

"Lizzie," Lynda said. "Who are you Lizzie!?"

"What?" Paul asked her. He had noticed that she stopped in front of the simple headstone, but she had done it so frequently with others that he had not been paying complete attention until she started shouting.

"All it says is 'Lizzie'!" She continued to shout. "That's it! No date of birth, no date of death, no 'go fuck yourself', not even a full name. Just 'Lizzie' in quotation marks."

"Maybe it is for an animal and not a person, the stone is pretty old, perhaps they didn't have the same laws about that sort of thing,"

"Maybe 'Lizzie' was an alien or a vampire. I request an exhumation of this grave at once!"

"Almost one hundred percent positive that there will be none of that happening,"

"Darn. Well, we should at least think of a backstory for the poor...uh...girl? Poor Miss 'Lizzie', all alone with no story to tell."

Paul wiped the side of his boot off on the grass, distancing himself from the sinking ground in front of the tall monument and his friend's crazy rant. He quickly glanced at the very small, very sad looking marker beside him. "I think it is safe to say that eighty five to ninety percent of the people buried here are named Riddle, McPherson, Rigby, or Smith."

"Most of those names are of the founding families, duh,"

"Well, isn't it safe to say then, because of that fact, that our Miss 'Lizzie' is one of those?"

"Perhaps, it was an accident stone. A Lizzy or Lizy?" Someone mumbled that wasn't Paul or Lynda, but neither were listening.

"She is closest to the Rigby people," Lynda pointed out. 

"Eleanor, hm, that is an underused, underappreciated name. Should remember that one, Macca, can name our first daughter that."

Paul spun around to face the owner of the voice that had completely startled him at full volume. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Work? Work? Should I be at work? Right uh, yes. Yes I am supposed to be there, but I missed you and figured that place would be fine without me and I walked out. I gave them extremely short notice." John chuckled, wrapping his arms around Paul tightly and lifting him off of the ground. 

"How did you find me?" Paul asked once he was back on the ground.

"I asked George where you were and he said 'hanging out with Lynda with a y at the freakshow cemetery,'...which reminds me..." John paused, looking back to wave at the girl with the mermaid hair. "Hi, Lynda with a y,"

"Hi John," She said back with a quick wave of her own, shaking her head. She was certain that John was going to need a whole new set of screws for that head of his. 

"How many other cemeteries did you stop at before you found me?"

"None. I pulled in on the other side and figured I would wander until I stumbled upon you two. This place is loaded with pokestops, ya know?"

It was quiet for a moment while Paul thought of a response. He couldn't shake the feeling that the only reason John came to see him was because he was spending time with Lynda. He didn't trust her, that much was clear. it was only just now clicking that he probably didn't trust him, either.

"Perhaps, you should go back to doing that?" Paul suggested, breathing through his nose in order to keep himself calm.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you are an asshole who doesn't trust me. That is fine, I am not asking you to. I am asking you to leave me alone right now, however, before I say or do something that I am going to regret,"

"What the fuck has gotten into you?" John asked.

"What the fuck has gotten into me!? Seriously!? You don't trust me enough to be alone with anyone. You are constantly getting all protective over me, even if someone is just looking at my fucking clothes. You just need to stop, tone it down. It is exhausting just trying to keep up. I might be a mess, but you are hella fucked up!"

"Paul, what the hell!? Did you ever stop and think that maybe there is a reason I act this way!? I am sorry that you suddenly don't like it, but I've never fucking hid a single thing about it from you! And, you know what? You're fucking wrong, Paul, I do fucking trust you. it is other people that I don't fucking trust! Other people are the problem! You are gorgeous and I am not good enough for you, so I am always going to be worried! I don't even know why I am trying to explain myself to you!" 

"If that is the case, why the fuck are you still standing here!?"

"When did you get so petty, so fucking stuck up all on your damn high horse!? You aren't any better than me just because you overcame depression and can play all of the damn instruments that exist. Maybe, I can't overcome my demons, but I sure as shit am not about to be made to feel this way by some kid who suddenly has confidence in himself!"

"Fuck you, John Lennon!" Paul shouted, shoving the older boy away from him.

John pulled his fist back. He was ready to let loose, allow his anger to take over. He swallowed it down and dropped his fist a moment later, realizing that he never could hurt his lunar eyed love.

He nodded, collecting himself. "Alright. Have fun with your photographer, mine only made my life hell, but she seems more stable, so good luck. I am sure you'll be very happy together."

"John! Ugh! Really!?"

"Whatever. I'll see you at band practice. I'll only need you until I can find a replacement. You will probably fucking take George with you, so same goes for him. We don't have to talk, just play through our set. It's fine." John told him with a calm tone of voice. 

He turned around and began walking back to his car. The hell if he was going to let Paul McCartney see him cry over him.

After he was out of earshot Lynda stood beside Paul, hoping their closeness would stop him from shaking. 

"That was kind of harsh!" She sort of mumbled as she contemplated whether or not it would be appropriate for her to take a picture of him in that emotional state.

"No kidding,"

"I was actually talking about you,"

"Oh," 

"John was not trying to make you upset, even though I know you feel that way. I kinda thought what he did was sweet. He is really a genuinely good person, from what I have witnessed. You even said it yourself. And, he treats you like a damn prince. I know that he doesn't like me all that much, but maybe that will change in time. He loves you, Paul. You might not want to let him get very far."

Paul sighed, sitting down in the middle of the cement pathway. "Probably screwed this one up, what is the use?"

"You also love him,"

"I know, but..."

Lynda held up her hand. "No! Not buts. If I had a guy who looked at me the way he looks at you, I'd never let him leave. I'd absolutely hobble his ass in the most Misery-esque way possible."

Paul looked over in the direction that John had gone. He had either managed to leave or was out of Paul's line of sight. Either way, he couldn't see there being any point in him going after him. They both needed time apart.


	23. I Am Crying

John opened the door, letting a puff of angry air out of his nose the moment he laid eyes on Paul. It had been two days since the incident in the cemetery, but it had felt more like a lifetime. As much as he hated to admit it, he was actually glad to see him. He had missed his face. 

"You aren't supposed to be here for another two hours," The words came out in some slip between monotone and downright cold.

"I know,"

He went to slam the door in Paul's face, but the younger boy caught his foot and hand in it to keep him from completely shutting it. 

"Why the fuck are you here, Paul?" He asked, tone still not changing.

"You won't respond to any of my calls or texts, so I decided to come see you myself,"

"For what purpose?"

Paul slung his bag off of his shoulder and sat it on the front porch. "I wanted to give you this," He presented John with a stack of different gourmet bars of chocolate, tied neatly with a red and black ribbon.

"Thanks,"

"I also wanted to apologize for how I acted. I was angry in that moment. And, stupid. I should not have treated you that way. It was awful. I love you too much for me to be that much of an idiot."

"I overreacted. I am a little jealous of your connection with Lynda with a y and I always tend to say things that I don't mean when I am angry. I accept your apology, but I am also apologizing for being such a dick."

"Now, without getting mad at me, tell me this," Paul paused. "Why is it that you treat everyone like shit all of the time?"

"Because I've had a really fucked up life and I need sarcasm to hide how ridiculously miserable I am!" John shouted, trying to hold back his anger.

"Well," Paul said with a smile. "Isn't it comforting to know that being miserable is still better than being an idiot?"

John busted out laughing. "Oh my, Macca, you never cease to make me crazy,"

"I have that effect on people,"

"I love you,"

"I love you, too,"

John moved out of the doorway. "Let's find something sinister to do for the next two hours,"

"What did you have in mind?" Paul asked.

John wiggled his eyebrows. "Personally, the desecration of Mimi's precious holy coffee table,"

"What?"

He grabbed Paul by the arm, yanking him flush against his body. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

"That depends on how this is all gonna go. Who is really in control around here?"

"Mmm," John mumbled into Paul's neck. "Just hearing you say that seems far more devious than anything that I had in mind."

Paul was practically purring like a cat as he walked John into the living room. John stopped when the back of his legs hit the coffee table. Paul stared at him like he was waiting for something, even going as far as to cross his arms. John was pretty sure that his foot was tapping, as well. 

"You should really be naked,"

"Oh, should I?"

"Yeah," Paul uttered the word without much emotion behind it. He let his fingers to the talking, making quick work of John's clothes. "You're so vulnerable this way, and I fucking love it,"

"Oh, really? Is that so?"

Paul moved to take off his own clothes, revealing just how aroused he already was. John bit his lip when his eyes arrived on that beautifully thick cock between Paul's legs. He was so utterly fascinated by it, finding the prospect of possibly riding it completely enticing.

"You're gorgeous, John. Every last damn inch of your body is incredible. The best part of it all, you are all mine." Paul growled. He pushed John down onto the surface of the table, dropping down to his knees in front of him. "And, it is my turn to make you say my name,"

John's breath caught in his throat, shock from the sudden change in air around him as Paul spread his legs apart to nestle between his thighs flowing through him. Escalating beyond his wildest imagination when Paul began flicking his tongue against the head of his cock.

He let himself relax into the feeling, enjoying Paul's natural talent behind those pretty, pouty lips. He looked into the boy's big hazel eyes, feeling so lucky to have him. Their gaze never broke, even as Paul slid his tongue along the underside of John's erection and John brushed loose strands of hair out of his face.

"You are just too fucking beautiful," John moaned, caressing Paul's cheek.

Paul moved off of John's dick, eyelashes fluttering over his eyes. "I just really don't feel like I asked for your commentary."

"Yes, sir. My apologies, sir."

"Sir? Hm? I think I kind of like that." He laughed wickedly, chewing on his bottom lip.

He stood up and held a hand out to help John to his feet. John quickly accepted, allowing Paul to lead him over to the couch. Paul sat down and patted his lap. John immediately understood, straddling the younger boy with a big smile on his face. 

Paul wrapped his hand around the base of his own cock, occasionally rubbing it against John's. 

John shifted upwards, moving Paul's shaft down near his ass. The head was pressed against him and he was already excited for what would come next.

Paul gasped when John replaced his hand with his own, stroking along the shaft, feeling the precome already dripping down.

John kissed Paul hard. The collision of their lips only aiding in their sexed out, swollen appearance. 

When the kiss broke, John pressed their foreheads together, breathing Paul in. "I want your big fucking cock inside of me,"

"You have anything for me?"

"We don't fucking need it, Paulie, I want it rough, I want to feel you splitting me open, ripping me in two..." John whispered in Paul's ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth.

Paul shuddered, his confidence roaring heavily at the sound of John's voice speaking such tempting words. This was so new for him, but it was so perfect.

John took Paul's left hand and put two of his fingers in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and coating them with saliva. When he was satisfied with his efforts he pulled them out, leading those long bass guitar playing fingers right where he wanted them.

Paul took the hint. He wrapped his free arm around John's waist and pulled him upwards. He ran his spit wet fingers along the outside of John's hole, teasing him with what was to come. Slowly, he put pressure on the tight ring of muscle until he was able to slip his index finger inside. He pushed it in all the way, amazed by the way John's insides felt. 

John was already feeling desperate for more. His breathing was labored and he kept letting out little sighs of pleasure, each one just a bit louder in time with each of Paul's thrusts.

Paul added a second finger, focusing on stretching him further. He scissored and curled his fingers as John had done to him, trying his hardest to hit that one perfect spot.

"Oh, fuck," John said, biting down on Paul's shoulder. He placed his hands on the back of the couch to steady himself. He was already so far gone. He wanted Paul so badly. "Stop fucking teasing me and put your cock inside of me! Fuck!"

Paul pulled his fingers out. He wrapped those fingers around the base of his wet cock, leading John down onto him.

John relaxed as he positioned himself on Paul. He didn't realize how bad he actually needed it until the full feeling of the younger boy's girth stretched him painfully further than his fingers ever could. He took a deep breath as the warmth enveloped his entire body, just beginning to grind down, wanting special attention. 

Paul's doe eyes gazed up at John with such adoration as he rocked his hips forward. The feeling was mutual, but it would be even better after an intense orgasm.

He moved faster, little by little becoming more comfortable with the pressure of Paul's thick shaft inside of him. The roll of his hips made the boy moan, louder and faster with each passing moment.

"John! Fuck...that feels good! Ah! John!" Paul shouted through gritted teeth, thrusting his hips upwards into John's definitely perfect ass. The deeper, the better.

John caught him in another kiss. He found the right angle as their tongues collided again. He rode him hard until his cock was pressing against his prostate nearly every time that he moved. 

He noticed Paul's eyelids flutter, his movements no longer in a rhythm, consistently more and more erratic. He grabbed his hands and placed them on his hips. Their eyes locking onto each other in an unspoken agreement.

"Come for me, Paulie, come inside me, want you...need you to fill me up...fuck, Paul! Fucking need it! Fuck!" John squeezed his thighs around Paul's, suddenly rocking his hips much faster. "Yes! Yes! Fuck!"

Paul had been so close to his release that it didn't take long for him to do exactly what John had wanted. His hips bucked up into John until he was completely spent, unable to think of little else after it happened.

John leaned back with his hands on Paul's thighs. He moved up and down on the come covered shaft, still wanting that precious contact with his most sensitive spot. His toes curled and his legs shook, a burst of white hot heat at his very core. He shouted a chain of expletives, eventually becoming more animalistic as he moaned and called Paul's name out loudly. He felt incredible.

The waves of his powerful orgasm erupted and washed over him until he was rendered unable to move, collapsing in Paul's warm embrace. That same adoration was back in the boy's eyes, glazed over in his current state. 

Their breathing finally returned to normal, John still wrapped in Paul's arms. They were both at ease with the events of the other day pushed far out of their minds. They were a unit again, a true couple, they would be unstoppable. Stronger because of everything.

John searched for something on the couch to wipe off Paul, whose stomach was completely covered in come.

"How do you do that?" Paul asked, so dazed he wasn't sure if his words had come out making any sense.

"Huh? How do I do what?" John repeated a variation of the question, noting how vague it was. He was more concentrated on using the throw blanket to clean off the boy. 

I didn't touch you, you just came,"

"Ah, your cock, plus my prostate, added in with the friction my cock was getting as we moved, equals my orgasm," John chuckled lightly. 

"You better wash that," Paul mumbled as John returned the blanket to its original resting place over the back of the couch.

"Do you honestly think that I am so deplorable that I wouldn't wash my aunt's blanket that has fucking semen on it? C'mon, Paul, I'm not that gross."

Paul raised an eyebrow at him. "You sure you want me to answer that question?"

"Let me ask you this, what have I done that would make you think I'd leave it?"

"George found a used condom on the floor in my bedroom and my father found one beside the garbage can in the bathroom. Which, by the way, if you haven't caught on yet, means that my father now knows that we are having sex. We had an amazingly awkward conversation about it. I forgot to tell you that part." Paul explained.

"Oh. I see. It happens. This time there isn't a condom to deal with so at least there is that. And, the fact that Mimi already knew we were sleeping together."

"She does?"

"I tell her everything and this house has thin walls, and she had actually thought that we were already doing it the first time she met you,"

"That's weird...she's weird..."

"No shit, she's had to raise me," John stood up and cracked his back. He was already in so much pain. "We should probably get dressed, the...oh lovely...good evening boys."


	24. Since You've Been Mine

John was staring into the eyes of two completely horrified human specimens. Despite the fact that he should have been embarrassed, he was actually more on the verge of laughing.

"The door was unlocked, we didn't think that...you two were supposed to be fighting...you weren't talking..." George stammered.

John smirked. "It'll teach you two to knock though, won't it?"

Ringo and George both nodded, still maintaining an everlasting look of pure terror on their stupid faces.

"Okay. Soooo, why don't you let Paul and I get dressed and then we can get to work?" John suggested as he grabbed his pants off of the floor.

"What the hell even just happened here? One minute the two of you aren't talking, Paul is supposedly going to be replaced. And, then this?" George felt so confused and out of the loop that he wanted to shake each of them by the shoulders, but only after they managed to put some clothes on.

"And you called me yesterday complaining about Paul and talking about how much of a bitch you had decided Lynda with a y was," Ringo added.

Paul glared at John. "Seriously?"

"What!? I was upset! I can't help the way that I am, geez. I'm sorry." He spit out quickly, taking a step back so that Paul couldn't kick him.

"John, you really need to get over this jealousy thing with Lynda because she is my friend and she is not going anywhere. We are just friends. You and I are going to struggle so much if you can't accept that I am far from the antisocial princess living in the tower that you make me out to be. Yoko fucking lives next door to me, John, and you don't see me treating her like a reject from a daytime soap opera."

"Uh! You were not supposed to tell anyone that!" John shrieked, very, very loudly.

Paul furrowed his brow. "Tell them what?"

"Wait, that's right. I haven't told you yet because I thought that you were going to make fun of me and now I've just gone and basically told everyone...and I am officially the idiot here..." John trailed off.

"Is anyone else as lost as I am, because if not I would really love an explanation so the blanks can be filled in. I am so damn lost." Ringo announced to the group with his hand raised like a kid in class.

John chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, taking a quick second to analyze each of the faces that were staring back at him. "Iwatchsoapoperas..."

"What was that, John? You do what now?" Paul asked with a shit eating grin on his face. He heard the first time.

"IsaidIwatchsoapoperaswhyyougottabeadickandaskagain?"

Paul did his best to hold in his laughter, but it was no use. He was buckled over, desperately grabbing for his clothing as a distraction.

"Oh yeah, John Boy? Which ones do you watch exactly?" Ringo somehow managed to say in between his own bouts of uncontrollable laughter.

"Why do you guys hate me so much? Why do you want me to tell you? Do you enjoy my pain? It isn't even important...you do not need to know which ones I watch." John whined like a child.

"Because this is amazing...this is brilliantly incredibly new information that we are hearing for the first time," George said, contributing to the madness of the situation.

John huffed. "Fine. Assholes. I watch The Young and The Restless...I also may or may not stream Dynasty on Amazon, too. Whatever. Cue all of your nonsensical laughter once more."

"Aww! How cute? Who's your favorite character? Sharon? Jack? Billy? Maybe Victoria?" George chuckled.

Suddenly, all eyes were on George.

"How on earth do you know those names?" Ringo asked, big blues showing off how badly he was trying not to explode into another fit of ridiculous sounding laughter.

"My mom watches it, okay?!" George shouted, a last ditch effort to try to defend himself.

"Yet you have somehow managed to retain that information?" Paul was only being curious. He definitely was not trying to be a dick and poke even more fun at his best friend. At least, that was what he was going to convince himself was actually happening.

"Oh my god, Paul, shut up. Don't act like you don't have anything embarrassing to hide."

"Like what, Geo? Like what? Like the fact that you still can't sleep without a nightlight?"

"No, it is a lot worse than that. I have a legitimate reason for mine."

"What is it?" Ringo asked.

"Who cares about the nightlight, I want to hear this!" John shouted.

Paul's voice went quiet and his face went white. "No! Don't do it, George. You do it and I swear that I will kill you right where you stand."

John and Ringo turned towards Paul who was still in the middle of struggling to get the rest of his clothes on. They both moved closer to him, Ringo leaping over the back of the couch to get a front row seat to the action.

"Please. Please tell us your secret." John chuckled, hands clasped together in a pleading way. "C'mon, Paulie, throw us a bone here, would ya?"

Paul rolled his eyes. He pulled his shirt on and crossed his arms. He was refusing to speak.

"Yea, let's hear it! C'mon!" Ringo shouted, pushing Paul by the shoulder. "What you got to hide, bud? We all just saw you naked."

"Haha...yeah...my opinion on this is no..."

"He owns three pairs of women's panties. One red, one black, one purple. Two of them are cheeky cut, the other is a thong!" George finally spilled the beans, cracking up before he could even say the last word.

"George! What the hell!? Are you kidding me!?"

"Why do you have those!?" Ringo asked.

"Why haven't you worn those for me?" John could barely get the words out before the image was in his head, threatening to make him aroused.

"When I was flirting with the idea of going out with Jane, she gave those to me as a gift. It isn't a big deal. She was definitely more than I could handle." He turned his head toward his boyfriend. "Would you stop being a perv?"

"Do you wear them?" Ringo asked with raised eyebrows.

"No, of course not, why would I?"

"Then why do you still have them?"

George started coughing. "Liar...Liar!..."

"Once again, why haven't you worn those for me yet?"

Paul smacked the auburn haired boy out of his daze. "Stop picturing it, you freak!"

"Do you have any of those cuban heeled thigh highs? A garter belt?" John asked, right before biting his lip. He was done for now.

"Stop!"

"I'm sorry, you know that I'm kinky, there is no need to be judgemental here." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying not to think about Paul wearing those things just for him. "Besides, I might be a kinky soap opera watching nerdaholic homo, but Ringo...he..."

Ringo clasped a hand over John's mouth. "You wouldn't dare,"

John had a wicked smile plastered across his face, visible just from his eyes. If Ringo even dared to move his hand, whatever he was hiding was going to be out in the open. This was war, one hundred and fifty percent.

"Can someone please figure out what the hell this is? I am literally going to die if I don't find out. I can already feel my heart slowing down and it isn't because Paul wants to kill me." George said overdramatically, hand on his chest.

"No! Nope! Nope! Noooope!"

"Everyone else has been outed, why not you, as well?"

"All of you are terrible, awful, disgusting human beings," Ringo sighed, slowly pulling his hand off of John's mouth. "Let it rip, John Boy. And, don't fucking lick me dude!"

John stood up proudly, so ready to speak the words that had been hanging off the tip of his tongue. "Richard Fucking Starkey regularly has sex with all of the lonely neighborhood soccer moms in exchange for money and alcohol, and weed, too."

Paul and George's jaws dropped.

"No way! Ringo, you're a freaking prostitute for fuck's sake!"

Ringo shook his head. "Not exactly. It didn't start out that way. They just always seem to want to give me things, ya know, afterwards. What kind of a man would I be if I refused?"

"You would not be a prostitute, that's for sure,"

"Well then, how many sugar mamas does Ringo and his magic cock have?" George asked. 

"Ha...ha...hardy-har-har,"

John shook off the current conversation. They needed to focus. They were supposed to be practicing for the Art in the Park festival. This was not at all productive. 

"Don't tell us that you are going to keep it a secret?" Paul smiled wide. "For real."

"Twelve at the moment..."

"That's enough! All of you...it is game time." John shook the room with his booming professional voice. 

Surprisingly and unsurprisingly, they listened. 


	25. We Hope You Will Enjoy the Show

The week of awful weather broke, the heat finally subsiding enough to stop its abuse on the county. The breezy weather that came in exchange was a relief and only served to make the beautiful sunshine it came with complimented all the better. It was a perfect day for any performance.

"This is Silver Beatles country now!" John shouted, running past Brian and pushing past the other acts that were still setting up.

"Watch it, will ya!?" One of the men in another group yelled back.

"Ah, shut it, my band is the only one here that is going to the top. Rest of you, are just stepping stones."

"Who the hell do you think you are, kid?"

"John Motherfucking Winston Got-DAMN Lennon, bitch!"

"Well, fuck you, John Lennon," The man snorted, about to back down. He stood quite a bit taller than John and was built like a brick house, but he didn't scare the eighteen year old one bit. John was as stubborn as a mule, he was not about to back away from a fight.

"You aren't my type baby, but tell your mother I said hello," He said with a wink. "She can call me whenever she wants,"

Brian stepped in between them. "That's enough. This is my event. There will be no in fighting."

"What the fuck, Eppy?" John groaned. "And, where the hell is the rest of my band?"

Paul, George, and Ringo all seemed to appear out of nowhere. All three completely ready to go. Paul and George with their respective instruments strapped to them. It was actually kind of a shock.

"Alrighty then, welcome to the twilight zone," John mumbled.

"Those guys over there look like they are plotting to kill us," George whispered, gesturing very discreetly toward the band that contained the tall man John had been arguing with earlier.

"Naw, they couldn't hurt a fly, and we are Beatles...we are bigger," John whispered back with a devilish smirk on his face.

"Oh boy, here we go again," Paul rolled his eyes, watching his boyfriend getting all revved up as he began his metamorphosis into a nineteen fifties themed superhero known as Teddy Boy Blue.

"Dang straight, Paulie! Why aren't they gonna be able to stop us, gents?"

"Because we are going to the top!" Ringo and George shouted, raising their fists into the air and feeding the beast formerly known as John Lennon.

Paul just shook his head. He never thought that this was going to happen in public.

"To the top of what, my boys?"

"The Toppermost of the Poppermost, Johnny!" 

"He says ridiculous things like that in front of people, but then calls me the alien. Makes plenty of sense, I suppose." Paul mumbled.

Brian laughed. "I would say he is being enthusiastic,"

Paul was shaking his head again. "Ringo and George are enthusiastic, I'm absolutely ecstatic...John is a hyperactive dog living in a human's body."

"He can be the Queen of England for all I care, so long as you boys are able to put on a good show,"

"I am sure that we will be fine,"

"I'm counting on it, I am putting a lot into making sure that you guys do well,"

***

"Hey! Hey! What's up, Lynda with a y? How's it hangin'?" John said with a wink, hopping up onto Lynda's craft table, dripping in sweat from the set. "How'd you like the show?"

Lynda stepped back a few feet, hiding how uncomfortable part of what he had said had made her feel. "You were great. Always great. Now, can you please get down before you get sweat and dirt on everything?"

John did as she asked, spinning around to face her. "Where are your pictures of Paul? I know that you have some. He's really pretty, so I totally get it. I want them though."

"What do you mean by that? Are you so delusional from the performance that you think I am just going to hand over my un-watermarked files over to you for nothing? Paul was right, he said you lost your damn mind."

John shook his head. "I'll pay you for them, I know you work hard. You do good work. I don't even care if you put a watermark on them before you give them to me. I just know that I want them. All of them."

"And, what if I refuse?"

"Nothing, I suppose. I just kinda figured...since you weren't selling the prints that you were not going to do anything with them."

Lynda raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound threatening at all, are you feeling okay?"

"It isn't supposed to be," He replied, playing with one of the crystal necklaces in front of him. "I am only trying to make it very clear that I will gladly pay you for your hard work since you aren't selling the prints and I will protect what is mine, no matter the costs."

"You do realize that it is this exact type of territory marking nonsense that was at the heart of your last fight, right?"

John shrugged. "As long as it is all settled, and you maybe consider starting over with me, I won't need to do this,"

"What do I have to do for this to be 'settled'? Do you want me to just say it all outright? Is that what this is all about?"

"Not really, but it might help,"

"Alright, fine. I, Lynda Eastman, am nothing more than Paul's friend who took some photographs of him a few times. You are his boyfriend, who he loves very much."

"That'll do. So, can I keep you on commission? The other photographer I know, she and I have an odd history together."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah,"

"You're crazy, you know that?"

"That's what they all keep telling me,"

***

Paul fell asleep naked, head at the foot of the bed. The sheets that had not managed to become one with the floor were barely covering the midsection of his body.

When he finally rose from his coma like sleep it was only because John had grabbed his foot and bitten down onto it, startling him more from the shock than the actual pain of John's powerful jaw.

He yanked his foot away and scrambled to sit up. "What the hell was that for?"

"You kept kicking me in the face, so I decided that biting you was the perfect form of payback. The damn heel of your forsaken fucking foot connected with my nose so many damn times that I am surprised that it isn't broken." John explained.

"Why didn't you move or wake me up? Why did you think that biting made sense? That never makes sense! Especially when someone is sleeping."

"Both of those are great questions, neither of which I have a prepared answer for," John chuckled, leaning up on his elbows. "Ow, nevermind, I've got one, my back is fucking killing me,"

Paul smiled. He was beside himself with pride, knowing full well why John felt that way. "Was whatever you did worth the back injury?"

"Fuck yeah, it was. I didn't know it was possible, but I think that I may actually be addicted. I've always considered myself a bottom, anyways, so if you are giving it up, I am more than willing to take it." John's voice took a on a rough tone as he whispered, recalling the events of the night before. It had been really great sex.

"All the more reason to not have bitten me on the foot then,"

There was a knock on John's bedroom door. Mimi was awake.

"Am I going to regret walking in here?" She called from the other side.

"We're covered up, Mimi. The worst that you'll see is some nipple."

"Free the nipple!" Paul shouted giddily falling back flat against the mattress.

Mimi opened the door with a hand over her eyes, despite being told that she had the all clear. "Um, I was wondering if the two of you would like to join me to the farmer's market? I am going to the large one, the indoor one that is about thirty minutes away from here. You remember it, John?"

"The one with the coffee bar?" John asked, sitting upright.

"Yeah, that's the one. Why does everything go back to coffee with you?"

"Because caffeine, Mimi! We'll definitely be going with you. Isn't that right, Paul?"

Paul looked between John and Mimi. "Do I actually have a choice in the matter?"

John shook his head. "Nope, you gotta come with me. It is a requirement. It is part of how you are going to make it up to me for what you did to my damn back."

"I am going to pretend that I did not hear that. Thank you, John."

John flashed a smile at his aunt that was just charming enough to make her forgive him, but also just ridiculous enough to remind her that he was being disgusting only a moment earlier.

"I am so sorry..." Paul shook his head, hand pressed against his forehead.

John only laughed. He was a lot of things, and apparently being an ass was just number one on his list.


	26. You Make Me Dizzy

The large farmer's market was packed with people and vegetables and just about everything in between. 

John already had his eye on the prize. The coffee bar was his main goal from the moment they stepped foot inside. Even if it would have not been free coffee, he still would have jumped at the idea of creating his own beverage, so long as it was heavily caffeinated. 

He dragged Paul by the arm along the most efficient path towards the back where the scent of coffee and popcorn were the strongest. The greatest marketing ploy of all time was to place those two beautiful gifts from the gods so close together. He even fancied the kernels more than a proper sour cream donut with his sweet, chocolaty mess in a cup that somehow passed as coffee. Obviously, he couldn't think of anyone who wouldn't agree after a taste.

Paul's nostrils flared at the already potent smell of John's drink. And, he was apparently not done adding to it. "You are going to die of diabetes,"

"Ooh, I hope not, but if it happens, it happens. I kind of hope that I die of something a little more fun, though."

"Define what you consider a fun death, John. Please. I am so curious to see where this goes." Paul said with a deep breath.

"Well, I don't know for sure, but I would say it is safe to assume that 'musician dies from diabetes complications' is a lot less exciting to read about than 'musician mowed over by car while chasing an ice cream truck' or, ya know, 'musician dies while laughing at husband's man bun'."

Paul crossed his arms. "I do not even have enough hair to have a man bun. You'd totally have one before I would."

"You're also not my husband, so why are you assuming that it is you in this scenario?"

"I don't know,"

"Besides, the future is not already set in stone. You could grow your hair out and rock a beard, I might decide to become a communist."

"Do you even realize how far apart those two things are on the spectrum?" 

"Says the guy who assumed that I wanted to marry him," John chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up. You aren't worthy of my hand, anyways."

John wrapped an arm around Paul's waist, pulling his body flush against his, almost spilling his coffee with the movement. "Do not even act like you wouldn't say yes if I was asking,"

"But you aren't asking..."

"Because that would be crazy..."

"Right,"

"But if I did..."

"I would say yes, or I probably would, most likely,"

"Because you love me?"

"Yes, and for some stupid reason I want to spend the rest of my life with your crazy ass,"

"Good,"

"Yeah?"

Their lips were only a few inches apart. No one seemed to care that these two random boys were in the midst of some random, heated exchange. The other patrons of the market simply went about their business as if they were invisible. 

"I love you, too," John giggled before leaning in the rest of the way, capturing Paul in a sweet, loving kiss. 

The kiss probably would have gone on a lot longer if there hadn't been a flash of light in their faces.

John took a step back from Paul and turned towards the owner of the camera. There she was, wearing her signature tiny tank top with her super short skirt all without a bra. The image of her would always haunt him. She was burnt into his damn brain forever.

"In your mind, did that seem like the appropriate response to seeing us? Really?" He asked with both eyebrows raised.

"I think you know pretty well at this point that I do what I want," 

"Obviously," Paul muttered under his breath, definitely not rolling his eyes.

"Don't publish that, okay? Eppy will have my head. The two of us are supposed to be on the down low."

"Why would you tell her that?"

"Why wouldn't he tell me that? That is the real question. Say, if you are supposed to keep your relationship a secret, why are you kissing in public in the first place?"

"I think you know pretty well at this point that I do what I want," John replied, mockingly.

"Obviously," Paul muttered once again, feeling it had fit into both situations.

Yoko let her camera hang from the strap around her neck. She appeared lost in thought, staring more at the big kettles of popcorn over anything else. John was worried, completely aware of what this woman was capable of cooking up in that demented mass of gray matter between her ears she called a brain. The terrifying possibilities were endless.

"You two need beards,"

"And there it is," John sighed.

"I am sure that it wouldn't be too difficult to find two women willing to be in fake relationships with you. You are just barely a local sensation at this point, so you probably won't even have to pay them."

"Nope. No. That is it. I'm out. I'm walking away." John grumbled, actually walking away and leaving Paul standing there with Yoko awkwardly.

"So...um...I actually kind of like your idea, but John is going to need a little bit of convincing . Do you think maybe we can try this again at my house later?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course, Paul. I'll see you later." Yoko nodded, discreetly snapping another picture of only Paul.

Paul finally caught back up with John, who was admiring the many baked goods with Mimi. He laughed at him, wondering how he didn't weigh so much more than he did.

"Ah! So you are capable of walking. I was beginning to wonder." John smiled, literally about to put his hand into a cookie jar.

"Very funny, John,"

Mimi seemed to have honed in on something of interest. She noticed a darker patch on John's left shoulder, only visible if she was actually focused on it, looking at it through the thin fabric of his blue t-shirt. John caught her staring out of the corner of his eye, pausing his cookie raid for just a second to see if she was going to say anything.

She grabbed his sleeve and yanked it up over his shoulder. The intricate skeleton holding a masquerade mask in one of its hands was bad enough. She was not expecting the gorgeous looking writing beneath it that read as something far too ridiculous for the boy she raised to have permanently on his skin.

"Care to explain this?" She asked in a harsh tone.

John glanced at his shoulder. "Oh, that? It's my new ink. Drew it myself. Pretty proud of it if I do say so myself."

"When did you get this?!"

"About a month ago. Did it on a whim. Seemed right. Paul here loves it. 

"Whoa, leave me out of this," Paul moved to the other side of the cookie table as he spoke.

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask and he will tell you the truth." Mimi recited. "Is that how you feel, John?"

"It is just a tattoo, Mimi. I am eighteen. It is fine. Let it go."

"Let it go? Just a tattoo? Do you realize that these are forever? You can't just wipe them off and be done with it. This is outrageous! I can't believe you would get a tattoo, John! You have ruined your skin!"

John pulled his shirt sleeve down. "Geez, Mimi, no need to get all upset. It is my arm, after all. I didn't tattoo you against your will."

Mimi started laughing. "You should have seen your face. Like I actually care what you do to your body, within reason. You are technically an adult. I was just giving you a hard time. It was the best decision I made all day."

John turned his head toward his boyfriend. "Was Paul also in on this?"

Paul only smiled sweetly, still remaining far enough away to not get hurt.

"I hate you, both of you,"

"How am I supposed to have any fun if you keep things from me?" Mimi asked. She was pure concentrated evil in that moment. 

"i will see you two in the car, okay? Peace."

Paul and Mimi stared at each other and started laughing again when John walked away. It was all worth it. 

 


	27. Don't You Know It's Gonna Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one is going to be a little on the short side because the scene that directly follows the last one of this chapter kind of did not fit the tone of the whole chapter. This would sort of be the tipping point, things move quickly from here, but that sounds kind of weird considering this is the 27th chapter and this story has consumed my life. Anyways, here it goes and here is to 27 more? I guess?"

"How do you spell gastrointestinal?"

Paul looked up from his book to stare directly at a very serious faced John. "Do I dare ask why?"

"I am writing,"

"I hope it is not a song,"

John moved his laptop away from him, leaning forward. "Noooo, I am writing a nasty comment on the facebook page of that stupid band that tried to start shit with me the other day."

"Let me guess: your goal is to get them to try to kill you?"

"Try all they might, I am not afraid of them. They can bring it on."

"Please don't do anything too terribly stupid. I would really appreciate it if you kept all of your teeth."

Paul's bedroom door had been left open at Jim's request, giving Yoko the perfect excuse to walk in without any warning. She came in and sat down cross legged in front of John, taking his laptop and shutting it.

Paul was suddenly wondering if the woman was wearing any panties. Based on John's unfortunate change of expression it was pretty hard to judge. He wouldn't have asked her to do this if that was what she was doing.

John moved his glasses up on top of his head. "You just gonna let her walk in here like that? What the fuck?"

"I asked her to come. I wanted her to take some extra time to explain her idea to you once more. I think that it is a good one."

"Yoko, what the hell? Am...are...no!" John grabbed his computer back, praying it had saved the page that he had been on.

"It would only be pretend, John. You and Paul would still be the loving couple that you are right now."

"The only problem with that is the fact that you and I have a history. Despite the fact that I am very much comfortable with who I am, there would still be that nagging in the back of my head. I would much rather be seen as single if I can't just stand on the rooftop of the tallest building and tell the whole world that I am in love with Paul. I just can't do the beard thing. It wouldn't be right. Especially not with you."

Yoko looked John in the eyes. "I know that the two of us do not always see eye to eye, but would it kill you to treat me like a human being?"

"Which human being is that? The one who took advantage of an underage boy? Or the one who hid a pregnancy from someone she claimed to care about?"

"John, that's not nice," Paul scolded.

Yoko didn't move a muscle. She held her ground, remaining in the exact same position. "John, when you had your breakdown with me, was it not enough? Do you need more? Say whatever you need to say to me. I am listening. You really need to bury this hatchet, and I don't care if the place you choose for it happens to be my back. Get it all out. We are supposed to be moving forward."

"No, I think that I have said all that I need to say to you. I am just irritated right now. It isn't anyone in this room's fault. I am just pissed off. I need to be angry. I have all this pent up aggression, sometimes I go off on people. I am going to go outside, clear my head. It will be fine. Oh, I'll see you tomorrow, Paul."

Paul waved, confused by the sudden shift in John's tone and body language. "Yeah, see you tomorrow, I guess?"

"Great. I'll call you. Love you."

"Love you, too,"

After John left the room, Yoko stood up to leave. "I guess I should be going, as well,"

Paul grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down onto his bed. "No. Don't. I actually have a few questions for you."

She looked at him with a scared expression on her face. She had absolutely no idea where this conversation was going to go, and she was not looking forward to finding out.

***

The winds of change were becoming more and more obvious as the days went by. The summer was winding down in such a strong way that it was hard not to notice. The earlier the dark skies rolled in, the clearer it became. Fall was going to be there in no time.

Ringo clocked out for what would be the last time, shutting the book on the era of his life that was so confined to this dead end town. There was no longer the threat of becoming a 'lifer' looming over him. He was actually going to make something of himself.

He was so proud to call himself a member of the Silver Beatles. It sounded so much better now than it had weeks ago, when they were all trying to hatch some sort of plan that granted them fame.

There were exactly three days before their first tour began, if traveling across the state and the two neighboring ones could be called such a thing. They had booked twelve shows with Brian's assistance, one was even as a main event headliner up north. It wasn't much, but they were all so excited for it.

Brian had been right, he did have big plans for them. 

Ringo took off his vest, happy that he would never bare the pain and embarrassment that came with the dark blue color. This was it. He was free.

As he was walking out the main doors he noticed Harrison carrying far too many bags by himself.

"Geo, please tell me you are carrying those all to your parent's car,"

"Nope. Unfortunately, my parents are out of town and they left me in charge of everything, including the business."

Ringo raised his eyebrows. "Aren't you the youngest?"

"I am also, somehow the most responsible, as well. Believe me, I cannot wait to leave. It will be so nice to get the hell away from them all."

"I don't know, I think it might be kind of nice, to have a big family like that,"

"Easy for you to say, Ritchie, you are an only child,"

Ringo shrugged. "It can't be all that bad. Here, why don't you let me drive you home? Then you won't be carrying all of this by yourself."

"You sure that isn't too much trouble?"

"Not at all, I am only one street down from you. It is practically on my way."

"Thanks,"

"Not a problem, George. The four of us need to stick together."

George smiled. He really was thankful. Not just for the help, but for the new connection that he had with his band mates. This foursome friendship was still in its early stages, but it still felt stronger than anything else that he had, even with his own family. 

"My truck is right over there. By the Chevy that looks suspiciously like John's."

George walked up to the small sedan. "That is because it is John's. Same dent on the right quarter panel."

"Where did that dent come from?"

"He hit my dad's beater when he dropped me off the other day. He refused to wear his glasses while driving. This is probably a good cautionary tale of why you shouldn't get into a vehicle with him. The fact that he has a valid license scares me."

"Are you sure that it is valid? He is really freaking blind."

George threw his bags into the back of Ringo's truck. "Now, you've got me wondering,"

One the way to George's house, both boys ere mostly silent. George sipped on his coke and Ringo kept his tired eyes on the road. They each wanted to say something, but neither knew how to approach it.

"You live off Maple, right?" Ringo asked.

"Yeah," George nodded. "Hey, uh, um...have you ever wondered what it is like?"

"Have I ever wondered what 'what' is like?"

"Kissing a guy. Paul said he didn't even know he liked guys until John kissed him. Is that just how people find out? Or do most people just know?"

Ringo chuckled. "I was not having any thoughts about that until you said it. I like women though, a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. A lot. I don't know."

"Well, how do you find out if you don't have someone like John who wants to be with you?"

"Good question,"

"What if you do find someone like John and then you don't like it and you hurt their feelings? Then what?"

Ringo put his truck into park in front of George's house. He stared at the younger boy, trying to put himself in John's mindset. He kept wondering what the worst case scenario would be, a like or a dislike?

He leaned in and kissed george. It was not all that different from kissing a woman, save for some aggression on George's part from the shock, but it didn't have that tenderness that he wanted.

"That was...strange,"

"Also weird,"

"Not for me,"

"Me either,"

"We can't let them know...about this,"

"Definitely not,"

"Can't let things get awkward for us,"

"That would be bad,"

"We should..."

"Forget that it ever even happened,"

"Exactly. That. Let's do that."

"Have a good night,"

You too, Ringo," George gave him a slight nod and a wave, already acting a little less tense than he had been a minute later. 


	28. Well, I Just Had to Laugh

The extremely loud, pounding knock woke Paul up immediately. His heart was beating rapidly as the fear came to its peak. He couldn't even hardly breathe. He was basically on the edge of death in that moment.

"PAUL! GO GET YOUR BOYFRIEND OFF OF THE DECK!" Jim shouted, borderline screaming with a flushed, angry face so similar to Red Forman it was scary. If he started making foot related threats, Paul would have said goodbye to the land of the living right then and there.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"YOU. GO. GET. YOUR. BOYFRIEND. OFF. MY. DAMN. DECK! PLEASE! NOW!"

Paul groaned and sat up, wiping the rest of the sleep from his eyes. He still had absolutely no clue what the hell was really going on, but at least he was moving and avoiding his father wrecking his hearing once more. 

He made his way through the house like a lost zombie in search for brains, half surprised he hadn't tripped and fallen down by the time he made it to the front door. 

Finally, he opened the door to see a mass on the porch using a hoodie to cover up the top half of his shivering body. Paul walked up to him and lightly kicked him in the side. He only managed a muffled groan in response.

He kicked him a little bit harder the second time. "John! Get you drunk ass up so you can lay down in my room. C'mon! Let's go! My dad wants you off the deck!"

John mumbled something underneath the black hoodie, but Paul couldn't make out any real words.

"John! Get up!" He shouted, about to kick him again.

John whipped the hoodie off of his face, angry when he had to adjust to how bright it already was outside. "Stop that! I am in enough pain, Macca! This wood on my back is not helping. Stop kicking me!"

Paul rolled his eyes. "Um...don't go out and get drunk and then pass out on my porch, maybe?"

John sat up slowly. Every muscle and bone in his body ached with such intensity that he thought he was going to throw up based on that alone. He hadn't even drank that much. It had been Stu's stash that knocked him out on his ass with whatever nonsense it was laced with. 

Paul finally got a good look at his boyfriend. He had a black eye and a cut across his swollen lip. He looked like a complete mess. 

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"If you can manage to get me to your room without either of us collapsing, and you get me a cup of your strongest coffee, I will gladly tell you every damn thing that you want. All of it. Whatever you ask me." John sighed, feeling a combination of everything crashing into him at once.

Paul shook his head. "You better have an excellent explanation for all of this. My dad is so pissed. He could have woken the dead with the way he was pounding on my door."

"Might not be excellent, but I think that it will get the job done," He groaned.

Paul leaned down and wrapped one of his arms around the older boy to hoist him up. When he was sure that John had gained some semblance of his footing, he started to walk forward into the house with him. It didn't take long to spot some of the problem, noting that he could barely put any pressure on his left ankle without wincing in pain.

"Should you see a doctor?" Paul whispered, incredibly worried.

John was now the one shaking his head. "No, I'll be fine. Just keep going."

"Alright, if you say so..."

After a little bit of struggle they made it to Paul's room. Paul helped John onto the bed and turned on the television. He handed him a blanket, in hopes of stopping him from shivering. John hardly managed to react, blank expression taking over the usual light in his eyes.

Paul finally gave in, elevating John's left leg and unfolding the blanket to cover him up with. He didn't really have any idea on how else to help him, despite that being the only thing that he wanted to do.

"What is wrong with him?" Mike asked, standing in the doorway.

"He is hurt and he is not feeling his best. Can you please go make a cup of coffee for him? Use the raw sugar and my creamer so dad doesn't flip."

"I didn't even say that I would do it and now you are giving me directions,"

"It wasn't a question that needed an answer. Just do it, Mike. It is not like I am asking you to steal something. This is easy enough."

"Whatever,"

John reached an arm out for Paul. "Come here. Come lay with me."

"I can't lay here with you all day. I have things to do."

"I think that Lynda will understand if you explain to her what happened,"

"But I don't even know what happened,"

"Lay down beside me and I will tell you, I told you I would,"

"John..."

"Please, Macca, please?"

Paul rolled his eyes at the pale, shivering mess. It was far too difficult for him to not give in. He hated it. John was probably going to hold some bizarre control over him until the day he died, and knowing him, perhaps even longer.

He reluctantly got under the covers with him, snuggling against his bruised frame. He looked so broken and Paul hated every second of it. 

"So, what the hell happened to you?"

"I was stupid, I am stupid, I guess? I don't really know. I was definitely quite a bit on the irritated side when I left your house yesterday. My anger kept boiling beneath the surface, and not just because of Yoko. She gets to me in ways I still don't entirely understand, even though I am trying to get over it. Sometimes, I can't handle things if I don't have complete control. I definitely felt like I didn't. Still don't, not really. I think I am really losing my mind this time. I purposely attempted to seek out that fuckwit from the other day and you know what? I fucking found his sorry ass. He was crossfaded and he pushed me around, I tried to hit back harder. He is stronger than me, even in that state. It just kept getting worse and worse from there. He got the upperhand, I was bleeding from the mouth, my vision was fuzzy...I don't know what would have happened if Sutcliff wouldn't have showed up. I'd probably be in the hospital, or worse."

"Stu Sutcliff? Wait, no, that isn't important. Are you crazy, John!? Just because you don't like someone, does not mean you have permission to go try to beat the shit out of them."

"I am the one who got the shit beaten out of me, believe that. I almost guarantee I cracked a rib. I've probably got more bruises than anyone could count, ones so big you wouldn't believe. I can't even fucking breathe without my whole body feeling like it is about to crumble into dust." John wheezed at the last second, throwing himself into a coughing fit that could have brought down an elephant. He was in far worse shape that Paul had originally thought, and he had already suggested that he see a doctor. "Fuck,"

"What the hell, John!? Seriously!? You can't do that shit! You can't! I am not going to lose you because you can't keep your damn mouth shut! This can't happen again. I know that you were kind of...confrontational...in high school, but high school is over. And, I really like your face the way it is now, I'd hate for someone to come along and ruin it because you spoke to fast for your brain to tell you it was a bad idea."

John took a deep breath. It hurt like hell. "I know,"

"You know? You do? Then why the hell did you do it?"

"Why do I do anything? Because I am a disaster of a human being. My own mother didn't even want me. My dad, who the fuck even knows. Sometimes, I just get this certain way and I can't stop until I come out on top or have the sense beaten back into me."

Paul rolled toward John and placed his hands on either side of his face. "Baby, I need you to look directly into my eyes,"

"Okay. Alright. I'm lookin'." John mumbled.

"There is not a single thing about you that I don't love. You are perfect. You are so loving and wonderful that I cannot imagine my life without you in it. You are my world. I want you, always. I love you, always."

"Thank you, Paul. I know that you feel that way, and I am trying to be better, for you, for the band, but I am not always going to be able to. I'll never hurt you, if that makes a difference. I love you too damn much. I'm really sorry about the way that I've been acting. I just want you to know that."

"It is going to be okay. If you tell me what the heck is going on with you ahead of time I can help." Paul sighed. "I told you that I would always be there for you and I meant it. It is the two of us against the world. Paul McCartney and John Lennon, our names are going to leave an impact on history."

"Ahem," John said with an eyebrow raised.

Paul felt another eye roll on the horizon. "Right, right, I almost forgot. Lennon-McCartney, because for some reason I play second fiddle to you or something."

"Can you also play the fiddle?"

"What is wrong with you?"

"I have literally been trying to figure that out my entire life. I am so triggered right now."

Paul playfully hit John's arm, forgetting that he was in pain. "I'm triggered because that triggered you,"

John winced. "Hey, that actually hurt. Not fair."

Paul got out of the bed and rummaged through a pile of clothes looking for his red work shirt. Yes, he was supposed to meet Lynda for coffee later, but first, he had his last shift. Honestly, he was a little surprised that he hadn't gotten fired prior to this point with as many times as he had covered his shifts. At least he didn't walk out like John had.

"Why are you leaving me?"

"Because I have to work,"

"You don't have to...is your dad gonna be cool with me chilling in here for a little bit? I don't really think I have the time or the energy to go find my car just yet." John chuckled half-heartedly.

"Where is your car?"

"I so don't even know,"

"How do you lose an entire car?"

"Uh, your guess is as good as mine. Good thing there is an app for that."

Paul kissed John on the forehead before turning to leave. "Get some rest. We have a long few weeks ahead of us."

"Yeah, yeah, bye already,"

Paul was smiling when he went out the door. 

 


	29. My Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Essentially, this is the beginning of a technical Part Two.

"Oh dear god," John mumbled, holding his poor broken glasses in his hands. The girl had come out of nowhere, almost knocking him over. Obviously, he hadn't managed to escape before she had done any damage.

"That was...unexpected..." Ringo laughed, wiping the dark lipstick from another one of the girl's off of his face. Their groups of fans were starting to grow larger, and they were starting to recognize some of the faces of their fans that were beginning to come to all of the shows.

The ones who had just finished mauling them were among those familiar faces. They had attended the last six shows. 

Paul took the two halves of John's glasses in his hands. "You suppose that we could tape them in the middle? The bridge has a pretty clean break."

"They are thick rimmed, Paul. If I tape them together I will look even more ridiculous than I do when I'm squinting to see without them." John grumbled. "I would rather go without than do that."

"But you're blind! Do you have a backup pair or something?"

"Yes," He replied almost too quietly for anyone to hear. He always had them, his backups, knowing he couldn't very well see much of anything without them. Why he had never switched to contact lenses was beyond him, although he was definitely reconsidering it at the moment. 

"Where are they?"

"In my bag..."

"It is probably high time you put those ones on then, eh?"

John made a pouty face, but still walked over to the van to get them. He figured it would save him from an argument with Paul and Brian. It would also save him from having any sight related accidents, which he tended to be prone to. Besides, these backups were far less obstructing than his hipster rimmed ones.

He emerged from the depths of the back of their white stalker tour van with his other pair of glasses on. He kept his head down, not even making eye contact with Paul.

George nudged Ringo. "Why is he acting like someone stole one of his cats?"

Ringo shrugged.

"C'mon, let's see then," Brian said in a sort of demanding way.

"A single one of you says a damn thing about my glasses and I'll break your fucking kneecaps," John grumbled, looking up at them.

Paul was beaming. "Aw!! There...um...very round. They suit you. I like them. They suit you."

"Positive things included!"

"Oh, calm down, John Boy. They aren't all that bad. A little bit Woodstock, but you rock them. Who knows, maybe you'll start a new trend?"

"Woodstock? Like the bird?" George asked Paul quietly. Paul shook his head.

John immediately took them off and hooked them on the collar of his shirt. "I won't wear these. I can't do it."

Paul grabbed the round lensed glasses off of John's shirt. He unfolded them and put them back on the older boy's face. "You are going to hate me for this, but I like you better when you can see,"

"Well, I suppose that it is alright. I do tend to be rather entranced by the details of that pretty face of yours. Speaking of which, my dear, your red liner is smeared on the side."

Paul huffed, taking it for what it was. At least he had managed to get him to keep them on.

"Do you think the girls are going to get worse?" Ringo asked, smiling like an idiot.

Brian, who had been in the middle of a phone call throughout this entire exchange, wandered back over to them with an added bounce in his step. "Alright boys, what do you want to hear first? The good news or the fantastic news?"

"Let's build up the suspense, start with the good," John replied, speaking for the group in that strangely eloquent way he tended to do.

Brian cleared his throat. "The good news is that you will be playing a show at The Loft Room three weeks from Saturday, opening for some Elvis meets the Penguin and the Joker's love child meets David Bowie looking kind of guy. he said he was excited to showcase some local talent and that it was better than allowing the venue to book for him.

"You didn't happen to catch his name, did you?" Paul asked.

"Will something or other. I was more worried about you guys than him."

Paul was secretly internally screaming. He knew exactly who they were going to be opening for. Shame he and Lynda had already bought tickets for the show.

"And the fantastic?" John urged him on.

"You four will be recording your first single in two days time. A friend of mine has a studio, he is going to let us use it. From there we can get it on YouTube, Spotify, SoundCloud, iTunes, the radio, you name it. The only decision that you have to make now is on the song."

John and Paul looked at each other. This had not been something that they had actually discussed. They had both written songs that were a part of their nightly set, but they never talked about who would go first. They had recently written more together in between shows, as well. They still had no idea what would come of this.

"Anytime now boys, certainly you have given it some thought?"

John made a sound that mimicked the ridiculous way that Brian cleared his throat. "You would be all kinds of wrong to make that assumption, Eppy. We are idiots, but we are your idiots."

"How about you each pick one...a relatively appropriate one...and we do a coin toss or something? Loser becomes second single." Ringo suggested, showing off his unique brand of quick thinking.

John clasped his hands together. "Oh happy day, our ring wearing drummer has the best ideas. How amazing? So swell! What a guy? Am I right? What a guy?"

"You're nuts," Paul whispered.

"Probably, already been decided, I thought," John replied in his best Indian accent. "They simply switched my brain out for another one. Those aliens, funny business is all that they are ever up to."

"Well, what song does your current brain think should go first?" Brian asked, peering through his fingers that were now covering his face.

"Ah, yes, which song?" The accent had faded into something else entirely, possibly bordering on the Russian side of things, as he stroked his non existent goatee. "Paulie and i, we have wrote some interesting songs. What was the name of that lovely ditty, the one Paul sang to me as a joke. What did we call that one? Oh wait, I remember. The lovely ditty about lovely love is called 'Love Me Do'. Grammatically he and I were both a little bit of a mess, but this track, could be catchy, no?"

"And Paul?"

"I am on Team John here, whatever that means at the moment. Uh, maybe ask George or Ringo?"

"George? Ringo? Any input here?" John asked smiling like a fool, accent taking a third turn.

Both boys just stared at the ground. 

"Fine. Whatever. I'll consider that four votes for 'Love Me Do'. The Russian imposter wins." Brain mumbled.

John threw his fist in the air, swaying his hips like Elvis in celebration. Somehow he remained silent. Paul decided this was definitely going online, possibly as many social media accounts as they had. Besides, why shouldn't they announce to their fledgling fanbase that they were going to release their first real single?

***

"I keep having these vivid dreams where John has switched out all of our instruments with power tools to better suit his progressive vision," George mumbled, tapping the body of his guitar case.

"Power tools?" Paul repeated the words as if it was the first time he had ever heard them together.

"Yeah, he is always wanting to incorporate all these strange sounds into the songs. It is like he wants everything to be screwed and scratched. He'd be a better DJ than a rocker with that outlook."

John walked into the hotel room with his phone in his hands. "Who needs power tools when a grinding electric can make the same sound?"

"Are you listening to the radio?"

John sat down, wrapping an arm around Paul's shoulders. "Yeah baby, they are going to play our song,"

"'Thinking Out Loud'?"

George made a gagging sound.

"No, you dork, our song as in OUR song as in OUR first single! The local station has gotten a lot of requests, most of them probably Ringo and I, but yeah, this is for real! We are radio famous!"

All three went dead silent. The voice on the radio announced the name of the song they were going to play next. He sat the Beatles, however, dropping the Silver completely.

"Did that really just happen?" George asked.

John furrowed his brow. "I guess so, we are The Beatles now,"

"Are you okay with that?"

He nodded. "Yeah, actually. I, uh, well, had been considering omitting the Silver. The Beatles just rolls off the tongue a bit easier. Silver Beatles was only ever meant to be a temporary thing. I kinda think this is just the natural progression of things. People are going to remember our name."

"The The Beatles!" George shouted, two thumbs up.

They listened to the remainder of the song. It wasn't a huge station, mainly local, but it meant so much to them to hear their song on the radio for the first time. Somehow, this felt so much more real than anything else they had done before.

Brian busted into the room like a crazy person. "Guess who just got played on a radio station in Ohio?!"

"Uh, gonna take a stab in the dark here, uh, us?" John shrugged.

"Yes!! And guess who was invited to play the radio station's closing of the season festival at the zoo near their headquarters?"

"Gonna follow the theme here and assume that it is us?" John chuckled.

"We are playing at a zoo?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, you are,"

"Can they give us a penguin as payment?" John asked in a follow up question.

Brian raised his eyebrows. "Something tells me that they won't agree with that?"

"Worth a shot,"


	30. The Night Before

The Loft Room was absolutely packed on the night of the show. It really wasn't all that far away from their hometown, allowing them the chance to go sleep in their own beds for the first time in weeks. Unless, of course, this was in reference to John who actually spent the night in Paul's bed. He did visit his aunt though, because he refused to be a heartless asshole despite what some people thought of him.

When they arrived in their stalker van well before the show was even supposed to start they were shocked to find the lines down the street to get upstairs. Brian quickly led them to the back, staff members of the club working to help get the instruments and other equipment up to the top floor. They needed to move quickly, only being given a limited amount of time to set up before the headliner cleared everyone out for his VIP's, and even less time before what was assumed to be a public soundcheck. 

"BRIAN!" The new man in black shouted cheerfully with his massive smile wide enough to show off his crooked teeth. He wrapped an arm around the manager, almost as if they had known each other for years, something the band had been told was not the case. "These must be the boys you've told me so much about. I've done a little research, I'll admit. It is always a bit different when you finally see them up close though, you know?"

"Yes, William, these are The Beatles, brand new and in the flesh." Brian said proudly, gesturing to the four baby pseudo-goths that had managed to give a whole new meaning to distressed punk.

John, cocky as ever, took a bow. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance,"

"The pleasure is all mine. Some single you've got. I'm impressed. It isn't often boys so young create something of that caliber. I must say I am a little bit jealous that I didn't discover you first."

"That you very much, sir," Paul said with a nod.

William winked. "I prefer Master, actually,"

Paul blushed and turned away slightly. This man was one of his idols. There was no way he would be able to contain his fanboy type screaming if he kept looking him in the eyes.

"Well, we have a soundcheck to do and some general sitting around like idiots, but thank you for talking to us," John broke the awkward silence that had followed, wrapping a protective arm around Paul's waist. Anyone as pretty as the man in front of him who made his boyfriend act like that was allowed to be considered a threat.

"And I have VIPs to attend to. Good luck out there. I'll be watching." He turned to walk away. "Will you all be sticking around? Great bar out there."

"Underage," Brian whispered, before urging the man to continue toward the door, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak again. "There will be none of that. You boys must behave in public."

"I always behave in public, obviously," John chuckled, kissing Paul on the cheek. "Right, baby?"

"I fear what might happen to me if I am to say otherwise,"

"Enough. Enough. Let's get this all going. Damn I am starting to feel like a broken record here."

John let go of Paul, spinning around to face George and Ringo. "Where are we going, boys?"

"To the tippity top of the pop!" They recited, laughing.

Paul joined in, wondering where the change had come from. Last he had checked they were still going to the poppermost or something to that effect.

***

The van was quiet. Brian, George, and Ringo were still upstairs in the packed club, breaking down their equipment for travel. Paul and John were supposed to be helping, but they snuck out without anyone seeming to notice. It had been so hard to find any time alone, so they were going to take advantage any way that they could.

"Where was Lynda tonight?" John asked, taking far too long of a drag of his cigarette before passing it off to Paul.

"She didn't want to come to the show by herself. I suggested that she take my brother since he wanted to come, but that was apparently not a good enough replacement." Paul told him as the nicotine hit his system.

"She is an odd one,"

"And you are not?"

"I didn't say that," John whispered before kissing Paul on the top of his head.

"You know...it has been a few days,"

"Since I've gotten laid? Oh, believe me, I am very fucking aware of that. We could always have a quickie in here before the working boys get back, ya know?"

Paul giggled. "John, this was not about sex,"

"Oh? Then please, do go on."

"I love you, always,"

"Damn,"

"What?"

"I might be delirious, possibly from the lack of sex, but I think that somehow hearing you say that might even be better. You are so incredible. I love you."

"Aww, sometimes I forget how sweet you can actually be,"

"Great, wonderful, I'm a sweetie, now about that quickie?"

Paul rolled his eyes. "No, John, I am not having sex with you in the van. They could be back any...ah!" He stopped abruptly, startled by the pounding sound on the back doors.

"Fuckin' really?" John groaned, moving to grab the latch.

"You two have been in there this whole time? What the hell? Are your arms broken?" George scolded, chastising them with the wag of his finger.

"If you must know, the truth that is, I was trying to convince this boy of mine here to help me get off, but he is apparently not into me at the moment."

"UM! No! You lie! I'm not into the band's van. However, I am still very much into you."

"I didn't believe him, Paul. You could have just sat there silently. Thank you for not having sex in the van."

"I second that," Ringo shuddered. "John described to me in full detail once what goes on, and I haven't been able to get the image of the two of you on Mimi's couch since. I would be scarred if I seen anything...the first time was one time too many."

John was smiling like a complete and total fool. "Those were good times,"

"Let's all calm down. We have to be in the next state over by morning. Can't be running into their rush hour traffic." Brian reminded them.

"Excuse me?" A small voice mumbled so quietly, and yet, so quick to get everyone's attention. "You're that new band. The Beatles? My sister thinks you're cute."

The little girl who spoke was downright adorable. She was wearing an AFI shirt quite similar to Paul's and had a red streak in her strawberry blonde hair. It was way too late for her to be outside and she appeared to be alone. There was no way that they would be able to deny anything she asked of them.

"Where are your parents?" Brian asked.

"No parents. Just my older sister. She takes care of me. She was too scared to come talk to you so I did. She thought you were really good tonight. Me too!"

"Thanks, dollface. Tell ya sister that John Lennon says hello. Next time she should come talk to us herself." John said, turning on the charm.

Paul slid forward and held out his hands. "What's your name?"

"Michelle,"

"Hi, Michelle. My name is Paul. Would you like it if you had something to take back to your sister?"

She nodded.

"John had me my Nightmare shirt, would ya?"

"The white one?"

"Yeah, and the red sharpie, too,"

John did as he was asked, thinking he had a pretty good idea of what Paul was up to. He watched his boyfriend take the cap off of the marker with his teeth and sign his name on the shirt. He passed the shirt and the red sharpie to Ringo, who passed it to George, until it eventually wound up in John's hands again.

He handed the shirt to Paul again, wondering exactly what would come of the damn shirt should they ever have real fame.

Paul gave it to the little girl. "Here. Of course, we won't tell if you keep it for yourself."

"Thank you," She giggled and ran away into the darkness, hopefully to her mysterious older sister.

"The great Paul McCharmly," John announced sarcastically.

"Thank you," Paul said, glaring back at him.

"What the hell was that, anyways? Ridiculous. My shy Paulie, he isn't so shy after all, is he? What a rouse? You just played shy for me, didn't ya, babe?"

"No need to get your panties in a bunch. All I did was talk to a little kid and make her night. That is it."

"I am not the one who has the panties, Paul. And, now that you have reminded me of them, you definitely have to wear them for me."

Paul smacked his forehead. This was defeat. John's devilish grin was proof of that. Brian shook his head, wondering if they were ever going to stop acting like this. They had places to be and literally no time for nonsense. Everything had to move according to schedule.

"Well, eh, for someone who wants us in another state by morning you are standing there awfully stupidly," John raised his eyebrows at his dazed manager.

Brian shook it off. Lennon could save his monkey business for the zoo. 


	31. Half

The zoo was bustling. Keepers, vendors, radio personnel, other bands due to perform, and a family that owned a large pizza chain were all among those scrambling about to prepare for the event. It was barely seven in the morning, yet they all acted as if there were only five minutes till showtime.

Brian led the boys to the historical side over a pedestrian bridge that took them over the highway, somehow completely unaware of the entrance not far from the amphitheater. Zoo staff moved most of their equipment, with the radio team meeting them halfway at the ramp that descended past the eagle exhibit. They welcomed them with open arms, ready to help them with whatever they possibly needed.

"You are not on until noon, sound check is at eleven thirty, you are all more than welcome to walk around until then." The tall, redheaded man from the radio station told them.

"How far away are the roller coasters?" George asked, not even remotely sure of the actual distance between the famed amusement park and the historic zoo they currently stood in.

"It will be over an hour before you get there, worse with morning traffic. I'd advise waiting until after your performance to attempt a trip of that length."

"Do you have any roller coasters?"  

"Gosh, Geo, you can't just ask people if they have roller coasters. It's a zoo." Paul said with a hard smack on the younger man's back. "It will make them feel inadequate."

"I don't personally have a roller coaster, but this zoo that I am not employed at does have a safari railway on the north side."

"Not the same," George mumbled.

"Penguins," John said in a zombie like state, pointing in the direction of the habitat that he wanted to see the most.

The redhead from the radio raised his eyebrows at John. "Is that...does he normally act like that?"

Paul shook his head. "Nope, but ever since he found out about the penguins and coming to the zoo, this just sort of happens sometimes."

"Really?"

"When he isn't complaining about a lack of sex, yes,"

John temporarily broke from his penguin induced trance to turn his head toward Paul. "I am still complaining about that, please do not assume that I am distracted by the penguins. It only means that I love them almost as much as I love cats and the only other animal I want is a tasmanian tiger and they are extinct."

"Oh, my apologies on the fact that you are being absolutely ridiculous because of something that is completely out of my control." Paul said with a light chuckle.

"I don't see you taking care of the problem. So, penguins!"

The redhead seemed to no longer want to be a part of the odd conversation. He took a step back and began to turn away. "I have other bands to check in, so, uh, I will be seeing you boys later."

"To the penguins!" John shouted, still focused on making it to that enclosure.

"Can't we get something to eat first? I'm freaking starving. "George asked, immediately causing John to frown with the realization that yet another person was going to get in the way of him and the precious flightless birds.

"Looks like there is a cafe over there, Geo. With all these people around surely they are serving something even though the zoo isn't open." Paul replied.

"Ugh, Penguins," John said as if he was experiencing extreme anguish from it all.

"Oh, get over yourself, would ya?" Paul mumbled, rolling his eyes.

"I can't, for my depression is too intense at the moment," 

Paul ignored his boyfriend, knowing just how long this exchange would go on if he continued to engage.

"Alright, as temporary acting leader since our real one isn't thinking clearly, let's head to the cafe,"

***

The building they approached was wildly colored on the accents of its very strong Spanish Colonial style. Neon teal bars created a cage appearance along the sides, only further complimented by the neon pink awnings. It was rather impressive, for a cafe in the middle of a zoo.

The cages were inside, as well. It was a surprise to see, especially with the tables and chairs inside of them. It only contributed to the strange feeling they got when they passed through the threshold. The aesthetic of a golden age carnivora house only being broken by the cafeteria style lines in either corner. Just one last reminder that such a place was not suited for animals anymore, no matter how vast it appeared to be.

The workers didn't seem to pay any mind to them as they strolled along the middle of the main room, only very slightly moving toward the teal colored cages. They simply continued to go about their day, preparing for the business that would arrive soon after the zoo opened. 

John climbed up to where the large door to one of the cages was, yanking on it until it budged open. "These are pretty real looking, not like the kind you see at haunted houses," He laughed, walking into the cage. 

"That's because they are real, you MO-ron. My parents used to bring me here when I was a kid. There are signs around here somewhere that talk about how they converted this from an actual animal enclosure. You could literally be standing where a tiger was standing in the thirties or something." Ringo explained.

"Well, I'll be damned. Maybe it is haunted? Anyone keeping a ouija board in their pocket?" John asked, beginning to yank on the door in attempt to close it.

"Please be careful, those occasionally will get stuck. They are old." A worker called over to them.

Paul and Ringo walked inside of the cage and sat down at different tables, watching John struggle to shut the cage door with unprecedented levels of amusement.

"How long do you suppose he will do that?" Ringo asked in a hushed tone.

"That depends. Either he will do it until it shuts, or he gets yelled at, it is all a matter of which comes first because he is definitely going to get yelled at." Paul chuckled.

All of a sudden the door slammed shut with a loud clash. John, Paul, and Ringo on the inside of the cage, George on the outside.

John quickly began pulling on it again, using all of his strength to reopen the door. it was of no use.

George jumped up on the opposite side, desperate to assist in the efforts.

"That answers that question," Ringo mumbled.

"HELP!" John shouted, kicking the door in attempt to make it move.

"HELP!" George added in, needing to get someone's attention.

"Help! Somebody get us the hell out of this damn cage!" John continued on.

One employee happened to notice, busting out into a fit of laughter.

Paul and Ringo joined in the fight, pulling on the door and shouting for that attention that was for some reason so difficult to get.

"Did I not just tell you to be careful?" The worker who had previously warned them asked.

"You did,"

"Yeah, thought so. Now, you've probably gone and gotten it all off track. Most people have the mind enough to not touch these things. Can't really understand why you insisted on doing so." She said as she approached them. "I should leave you bozos in there for a while, teach you a lesson,"

"I'd very much not like that, Miss. We have a show later and our manager would be rather upset with us if he found out what happened because he had to come looking for us." John replied pleadingly. 

"You are lucky that I need this seating area after we open," She laughed, kicking the door a bit until she was able to slide it open with ease. "Hopefully this moment will serve as a reminder to listen and heed warnings."

John nodded before turning toward Paul and Ringo. "Uh, yeah, now we go and not cause anymore problems and we play with the penguins, or wait, on second thought we go play with the tigers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this happened, but it had to. I dreamt it and some fic of mine was going to get it. Poorly written, yes, but for my amusement. It is all good though, back to actual plot in just a chapter.


	32. Love Was In Your Eyes

"What time is it now?"

"Not hardly past nine, John,"

"That's no good,"

"Why?"

"I'm going out of my mind here, Paul. I had no idea that zoos were so boring. The animals are not doing anything and the damn place smells like barrel pickles. I'm half tempted to get stuck in the cage again. We could get the whole band in there, just move the performance to the carnivora. Who wants to sing in a stinky old amphitheater, anyway?" John said, sitting down on the steps leading to the aquarium, leaning his head against the glass of the penguin exhibit.

"That's crazy talk,"

"Is it really, though? We should be pushing the envelope every chance that we get. We need to make more of an impact. Maybe we should make a deal with the devil."

"We are on the radio and we have been playing shows almost every night of the week. What more could you possibly ask for? Definitely had more success now than most of the other bands back home. Brian is doing good with us."

John ran his finger back and forth along the glass, watching one of the small birds follow his movements. "You're right about all of that, Paul. I know that I should be satisfied with our luck so far, but I can only ever see the next step, I can't just bask in our glory now. I am always going to crave more and more. I never thought that I would actually leave home, not even when I had plans with Cynthia. Now, that this is all happening, I have to have it all. We have to keep going. We have to...get to the top."

Paul sat down on the next stop, admiring the careful way that John moved his finger, amused by the penguin. "I've never looked at it like that,"

"Even if we only last five, ten years as a band, it is you and me for the long haul. Household names, leaving a mark on history, all that jazz. One day, I might very well like to own something besides my dented chevy."

"Lennon-McCartney," Paul chuckled.

"Exactly, babe, best songwriting duo in the world,"

"I've been thinking, about some of the things that you keep bringing up, especially regarding a lack of something. I don't know if you know this, but there is actually roughly an hour before the zoo opens and there are plenty of these little, quiet places that we could sneak off to." Paul whispered, biting his bottom lip.

John perked up. "Oh my god, please, yes, take me somewhere so we can do that,"

Paul smiled. He knew just the place.

***

The old white building was unbelievably humid, serving as a sort of greenhouse for exotic plants and a winter home for an unusually large tortoise. Now, however, it was completely empty. There were windows that could not be seen out of, benches under the trees, and a sandy floor. It was strangely perfect. 

John sat on a bench and pulled his knees up to his chest. "Uh, you sure that this is a good idea? Cameras and unlocked doors and all of that?"

"When has risk ever stopped the great John Lennon?"

"When it was in this public greenhouse arboretum thing that people could walk into at any moment,"

"I locked the door,"

"Oh," John stood up. "That does change things,"

"Well, it should. It should change things...a lot...like your hands should be on my hips...or perhaps a bit lower?"

John bridged the gap between himself and Paul. His hands wend right for Paul's ass, cupping the firm flesh through the fabric of his tight jeans. Their lips collided as the days of built up passion exploded all at once.

Until, of course, it stopped.

John moved his hands up to Paul's shoulders and pushed him away. "No, we can't do this. It isn't right."

Paul furrowed his brown. "What? You've practically been begging me to sleep with you for weeks."

"I know that I have, but...something about this just isn't right. We have gone this long without it, might as well make it worth it. Maybe, I am just not into steamy, zoo exhibit sexual encounters. I don't know. What I do know, is that I love you, and I respect you, and somehow you have managed to make sure I would rather do it on a bed." John said with a weird look on his face.

"Holy crap..." Paul mumbled.

John chuckled. "Just remember, this means that when we do finally get a chance to do it you are going to be screaming my name. I won't go easy on you." 

Paul pulled John close to him once more. "You think mighty highly of yourself, don't you?" He whispered.

"I do on occasion, yes,"

"Well, despite your previous comment, I actually think it is kind of sweet,"

"Good, because I also don't want to do it because I am afraid it would make me too tired and we still have to get on stage today."

Paul nodded. "That actually isn't a bad point,"

"I am smart, it is a thing,"

"Hm, well, you know, we could still make out?" The younger boy suggested.

"Mmm...yes...we could, we should," John chuckled, grabbing Paul, threading his fingers through his dark hair and catching him in a lusty kiss.

The kiss broke suddenly and they both stood in silence, staring deeply into each other's eyes. It felt familiar, almost the same as it had been before they set off on their wild adventure, before they even shared that first kiss. 

"Damn, John Lennon," Paul mumbled, backing away with a hand over his heart as the delay of catching his breath settled in.

"Yeah, I get that a lot,"

"Right, since you are such a big slut and all. Makes perfect sense since we've been together since June."

John linked arms with his boyfriend. "C'mon, let's get ready for the show,"

"We are going back to the penguin exhibit, aren't we?"

"Oh h-h-helllll yes,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short, but like...so overdue. So many things have been going on and I haven't been able to update...anything. Which only contributes to me being a little angry and upset. I saw Paul last night in concert though. It might have just been enough of a kick in the ass to get me going again. Anyways, I have two more chapters ready after this one so...here we go. Next two days will be good.


	33. A Splendid Time Is Guaranteed For All

John yawned. He had been fighting sleep for hours and was just now willing to accept that it was time for him to go to bed. He was beginning to have nonsensical thoughts, that should have been his first sign, but he had chosen to ignore it.

He shut his notebook and moved his glasses on top of his head. Paul was already sleeping soundly with his head resting on his shoulder. He looked so incredibly beautiful, and he was the perfect reason to finally embrace a dream state.

"He loves you so much I thought that he was going to cry when that girl jumped on stage and tried to kiss you," George said quietly so Ringo and Brian wouldn't be able to hear.

"I know. I love him just as much, I think, I hope, maybe more. He is the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me. And, you know, he wants us to pretend to only be friends in public because of Brian's theory that girls will fancy us more if we appear available, but I don't think that it is working for me. He is mine and I want everyone to know and I don't care what anyone thinks. I am done hashing this all out. This needs to happen."

George smiled. "I am really glad that he has you. You are cool, a good guy, and you are our fearless leader, but most importantly, you came into my best friend's life at a time when he needed it the most. I'll remind you of that, just in case you mess things up again."

"If I mess things up again? What is that supposed to mean?"

George only glared at him in response.

"Alright, alright, I'll do my best,"

Paul sat up groggily and glanced around the dimly lit interior of the van. "What the hell are you two still doing up for?"

John wrapped his arms around his sweet, loving, slightly cranky boyfriend, pressing a kiss against the top of his head. "We were talking about how I think George needs to try on a guy for size. I think he might like it."

"That's crazy. George is straighter than a stripper pole." Paul half mumbled.

"Besides, I kinda sorta already tried kissing a guy and it was really awkward. Not for me. I just can't." George cringed, trying his best not to allow his eyes to drift toward Ringo.

"Yeah, right!? Like you kissed a guy!" Paul guffawed. 

Ringo looked at the skeptical Paul through the rearview mirror. "It is true, the two of us kissed. Neither of us were really into it."

John and Paul looked at each other, completely confused and feeling left out of the loop.

"Well then," John coughed. "Moving on, gentlemen. I think we need to really buckle down on creating new material. I don't know about all of you, but I am so ready to dive into what will become our first record...album...cd...what year is it? I don't even know. What the fuck ever...I just know it will be great. If the show at the zoo was any indication, we have our work cut out for us."

"You think that we can pull that off? This early on?" George asked.

"Yeah,"

Suddenly, Ringo swerved to avoid hitting something and went off the side of the road. The van grazed the branches of a tree before coming to a halting stop that threw the boys in the back forward.

"What the hell was that!?" Paul shouted, pushing himself up off of the floor.

"I don't fucking know, man, but I didn't want to hit it!" Ringo yelled back, breathing heavy, clearly shaken by the experience.

"Move," John grumbled, pushing past both George and his boyfriend. "You better not have fucked up the van, Ritchie, I'll kill ya."

He pulled the latch and shoved the back door open, jumping down into the tall grass that surrounded the vehicle. He walked around the outside, using his phone as a flashlight in hopes of surveying the damage. It was hard to get a definite on anything in the dark, but he still wanted to get an idea.

He heard something shuffling the grass around, most likely a small animal. He turned the light from his phone toward the source of the noise. The curiosity of knowing what might have been the cause of Ringo's swerving was killing him.

The animal began to whimper. It sounded a lot like a dog. One that was lost and scared.

He slowly approached it. The light caught the top of its head. It wasn't just any dog, it was a sheepdog puppy. It was completely adorable. He scooped it up in his arms immediately. He had to show the guys.

"Look what I found!"

Paul's eyes fell upon the sweet dog. Small and fluffy, it was already the best reason to be ran off the road. 

"What a cute puppy!? Can we keep her?" Paul took the fluffy dog out of his boyfriend's arms.

Brian got out of the van and walked over to see what all of the commotion was about. His eyes brightened upon seeing the dog. He couldn't fight the smile that took over his face.

"What an adorable pup?"

"Right!? We want to keep her!" Paul whined.

"What if she belongs to someone else? And, how on earth do you know that she is a she, anyways" John asked.

"Does it look like there are any houses or anything around here? She is all alone and needs a home, which could very well be our van."

"Paul..." John began, but it was no use. When stubborn Paul set his mind to something there was absolutely no fighting him on it. "Okay then, what are we going to name her?"

Paul giggled. "Yay! Oh, Brian, you are alright with this, right??"

Brian nodded. "Of course, how could I not be? If we end up leaving the tri-state area we can always drop her off at one of your houses."

"Still not sure how you know it is a girl, but yeah, since you are not answering that part of the question, whatever," John chuckled.

"Martha," Paul said out of the blue. "Martha!"

"As in Wayne? Is this a Batman reference? What is happening here? As in Kent? Are we reliving that disaster?"

Paul rolled his eyes and went back into the van with the puppy. John heard the excitement from George and Ringo the moment they laid eyes on the new addition. He was smiling almost as wide as Brian had been.

A puppy. It almost felt like the next state in their relationship. John replayed the way that Paul said 'we' over and over again in his head. It was beautiful. 

***

The boys were due to perform at a fall festival, leaving them in a gorgeous German settled town for the entire weekend. They were given a chance to relax and take in the sights. They were finally able to just be themselves, as friends and as lovers.

Paul and John left their brand new puppy with Ringo. It killed Paul, with this being the first time apart since the fateful night she came into their lives, but he knew it was for the best. Besides all of that, John reminded him that he had not seen Salt or Pepper in an extremely long time and that Facetime calls with his aunt did not count.

They had to be able to spend time apart.

"I want wine! Why can't someone let us drink wine!?" John shouted from a bridge down at unsuspecting tourists on the riverboat below him.

Paul watched his boyfriend climb up onto the cement ledge, perching himself so precariously that one gust of harsh wind might have easily done him in. He tried not to be nervous, especially with the way people were reacting, but it was just too damn hard. He couldn't help thinking that John was going to fall, and he didn't have a plan of what to do if that happened.

"Sounds more like he has been drinking the kool-aid, eh? Fucking loon." A guy laughed, nudging Paul in the arm as he joined him in watching John's dangerous stunt. 

Paul glared at the stranger. "That is my boyfriend you are talking about and I am actually very worried about him. I'd very much like him to not die today."

"Oh," Was all that the guy said in response, looking at Paul in an odd way one last time before moving on his way. 

Paul turned his attention back to John immediately, noticing he had ran out of bridge railing. So long as he made it back onto solid ground, he was going to be so happy that Paul had accidentally spilled the relationship beans to a total stranger.

John jumped down onto a patch of grass, landing on his knee hard. He heard a crack when it hit, but quickly brushed it off, wanting to keep moving forward. He was hungry and he smelled the strong scent of fresh fudge not far into the distance. The cupcake shop next door was just a bonus.

"Fuck yeah! C'mon Paul, whattaya waitin' for, Christmas? Er...that isn't far enough away, but you get the point."

Paul was unable to fight rolling his eyes and jogged to keep up with the fast moving Lennon. He kept an eye out for any sign of a change in the older boy's direction, obviously still worried that he might attempt something equally as stupid as the bridge incident.

John slowed his pace to match Paul's. He carefully moved closer, the gap between their bodies getting smaller with every perfectly planned step. He waited until the word 'vegan' on the cupcake shop's window caught Paul's eye before making his final move, linking his arm with the younger boy without him putting up even a little bit of a fight.

"Hmm..." He mumbled.

"What?" Paul asked curiously, still thinking about what he said to the stranger.

"You and I are being out in public. We're being gay. Gay as fuck. The only thing that would be more gay is if we held hands or we kissed. We should probably do one of those things now." John rattled off.

"It balances out, doesn't it? You are literally gay as fuck, and I am at least seventy-five percent there. You do dumb things and I keep you from accidentally killing yourself." Paul chuckled, still allowing John to keep his arm linked with his.

"Seventy-five percent? You might have some strange, residual attractions to the opposite sex, but I think most of that is because you like the attention. As long as you are with me, baby, you is on that one hundred percent shit."

"How dare you accuse me of liking the attention? It is not my fault that girls think I am pretty."

"Whoa, calm down, Princess," John laughed. He leaned his head against Paul's shoulder, making another attempt at changing their course.

"Hell yes I am a motherfucking Princess," Paul grumbled sarcastically under his breath, completely unsure if he should embrace the nickname or not. It wasn't the first time, certainly it would not be the last.

"Take your references back to 2007 where they belong,"

"Babe..."

"Oh, get over it, would ya? C'mon, now, let me buy you a cupcake before you end up hitting me. I think I still have a bruise from last time."

"I'll accept that as an apology. You will most definitely buy me a cupcake, maybe five. Who knows?"


	34. Hey!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some very light and completely unplanned BDSM type things coming. You've been warned.

"Should we check on Martha? Should I call Ringo?" Paul asked in between sips of the hot carmel apple cider that he was quickly becoming addicted to.

"No, Paul. She is a dog, not a baby. Ringo would have called us if something happened. I am sure that everything is fine. If it isn't, well, George is probably around there somewhere to assist."

"You say that, but you really don't know. They could have all died. How would we know? The van could have exploded. The hotel could have caught on fire."

"Are you high from all of that sugar or are you really that paranoid?"

"Neither. Both. I don't know."

"Holy shit, you have lost it,"

"Chill!! I have not lost it, Lennon, you have lost it. Alright?"

"Drink your damn apple cider and be quiet or I am going to beat you,"

"I think that is my job," Paul said with a wink. He reached a hand under the table and squeezed his boyfriend's delicious thigh. He was already thinking about be buried between them. He was trying his absolute hardest not to let him see it on his face.

"Mmm...oh yes, yes sir," John shuddered at Paul's sudden touch, remembering how long it had been once again.

Paul leaned in close, breath ghosting over John's ear. "We could...maybe head back to the hotel...and I could do a whole lot more than just beat you,"

John bit his bottom lip and scooted his chair closer. "Please do me, please me, beat me...yes. Don't make me beg."

"Oh well, begging might help," Paul chuckled. "And by the way, I told a stranger that we are a couple earlier. It was an accident, but I didn't even think about it before it happened. It didn't feel weird or anything. So much for the plan."

John raised his eyebrows. "I'm not sure how it is possible, but hearing that might have just managed to turn me on even more,"

"Really?"

"Yes, fuck. Finish that fucking cider and let's get the hell out of here."

***

They had bartered hard to get the bigger of the two rooms that were joined by a bathroom and they could not have been happier about it. The massive king sized bed in the center of the room was only a bonus, because there were lots of other more unconventional surfaces for them to play on besides that.

As soon as they were in the door Paul slammed it shut, pushing John against it. He pinned John hard, one hand wrapped around his throat, forcing him to gasp for air and the other tightly pressed against his left shoulder. He didn't care about the pain. In fact, he welcomed it, thankful for Paul's dominant streak and the things that it did for him.

Their lips met in a rough kiss. Passion and lust strangled each other for prominence, leaving both young men desperately fighting for breath, wanting more of the magnificent explosion of everything that had been repressed between them for far too long.

John forced himself to pull away and take a full breath. His eyes immediately went for Paul's lips, swollen and completely debauched. His desires ran higher when the boy's tongue dashed out quickly across the tantalizing bottom one, wetting it just enough to make it seem almost too sinful to continue to watch.

"Oh my god...fucking kiss me like that again...please, Paul..." He whimpered in an outburst of strained emotion. "You can do whatever you want to me, just don't take your hands off of me again."

"I wonder if you will still be saying that later..."

John took another much needed deep breath. "I would say that the odds are definitely in your favor,"

Paul caught him in another kiss. He explored every inch of his mouth with his talented tongue. John melted into him, arms wrapped around his petite waist. This was exactly what they needed.

John jumped up and wrapped his legs around Paul. The younger boy held onto him, carefully walking over to the bed. He threw him down, crawling on top. His hands quickly ran up his shirt, his mouth trailing kisses all the way up until he was able to completely pull it off.

He latched his mouth onto one of John's nipples, sucking lightly. John moaned, arching his back. He threaded his fingers through Paul's dark hair, using his grip to pull him back to his level.

Paul paused for a moment, allowing himself to get lost in John's dark, almond shaped eyes. "You're so gorgeous. So fucking perfect. I love you so fucking much."

John chewed on his bottom lip, staring up at Paul. He couldn't keep from smiling. He remembered exactly why he had fallen so deeply in love with his raven haired angel, and how every day was a little better than the last. "I love you, too,"

"That still sounds just as amazing as I hoped it would,"

"That's enough, Macca. Quit that mushy shit and fuck me."

Paul's nostrils flared, but he didn't say a word in response. He yanked his black tie out of the back on the floor beside the bed and held it in his mouth. He pulled John forward, moving his hands behind his back. The tie became a way to restrain him, keeping his arms tied and unable to make an impact on anything that happened next.

The younger boy moved lower. He made quick work of John's pants, leaving him stripped down in nothing, but his Batman socks. He worked his way back up his boyfriend's body, teasing him with every little nibble and soft press of his lips. He was going to destroy him before it even began.

He roughly turned him over, face buried in one of the pillows. A maniacal, wicked laugh erupted from within him, a warning to John of what was to come. He continued his game, taunting John with a skillful use of his mouth on his backside, lapping at him until he began to cry out for mercy.

"Stay exactly as you are. Do. Not. Move." Paul commanded his lover as he rose from the bed. John did as he wanted, listening carefully to the sound of his beloved shuffling through something. 

He heard the snap of that damn vegan leather belt Paul was so fond of. The vicious sound it made almost caused him to flinch, the battle of fear and anticipation taking over within him.

He paid perfect attention to the approaching footsteps, trying to be hyper aware of exactly where Paul was in the room. The weight on the bed shifted as the younger boy crawled back on top. The new closeness immediately sent chills up and down his spine. He wanted this and he wanted it bad. 

"Beg for it," Paul whispered. His voice was rough from arousal. He wanted to hear John pleading, seductive thoughts already rolling through his mind hen he imagined the sound.

"Please punish me. Make it hurt. Leave a mark, baby." John muttered, beginning to tense up.

The belt cracked against John's skin. His flesh lit up a bright red the moment that Paul pulled it back. It stung like hell, but it was all that he could feel, yelping in his twisted, pleasurable pain.

"Please, sir, can I have another?" John whined as the pain subsided.

Paul inhaled deeply. This was never something he had taken and interest in before John. It never struck him as something he would enjoy. And yet, the sounds coming from John mixed with the pure power did it for him. There had always just been something about John and his unique mind and ways.

The leather strap was whipped against the older boy's ass again. Paul heard him hiss in pain, but had yet to hear the direction for him to stop. 

"Please, sir, I want more," John's voice was not much higher than a whisper, but Paul hung onto every single word.

The belt connected for a third time, eliciting cries from somewhere deep within John's most animalistic self, showing off his carnal desires. The moans followed soon after as Paul ran his hands along the swollen lines that graced the red flesh of John's perfect ass.

His lips trailed slowly across raised skin, tongue lapping over the occasional contusion with wonder of how few hits it would take to actually break the skin. John shuddered Paul's hands moved back up onto him once again, grabbing tightly and spreading him open. The contact from his fingertips burned, only soothed by the distraction of his tongue trading ever so lightly around the outside of his hole.

"That feels so fucking good, Paulie, please don't stop,"

Paul smirked. He delved his tongue in deeper, tasting him with as much need and fervor as his body allowed. He carefully moved his left hand down, slowly adding in his finger to stretch John further.

A second finger was added. He scissored them apart with each thrust, entering him as far as they could go. He curled his fingers up with intent, a promise to hit a certain bundle of nerves that was sure to send John over the edge into a writhing mess.

He pulled his fingers out suddenly. He didn't want to wait anymore. His cock was hard and neglected, only serving to make him more aware of the throbbing. He reached down into his bag again, searching for the small bottle of lube he had packed away. He could not believe how incredibly strong his yearning for this to happen was. Clearly, John had been right when they were at the zoo.

He slicked the sticky liquid over his cock, wiping the excess off on John's ass. He positioned himself behind his lover and slowly slid into him until he was fully inside.

John gasped loudly. He felt full with Paul's dick and it was literally all that he could focus on, the warm stretching that was caused by the boy's impressive girth taking a moment to get used to again. He felt one of Paul's hands grip tightly on his hip, the other lacing through his hair, yanking him upwards. He did his best to push back onto Paul, wanting to be split open by the sheer force that he knew would be behind it. 

"Fucking move," He grumbled, angered by the stillness, moving forward a bit before pushing back even harder. "Fuck, Paul, fucking take it."

Paul's fingers latched hard onto John's hair and pulled him up even further. He turned his head toward him slightly, forcing at least temporary eye contact. Once their eyes were locked onto each other Paul began to move, fast.

The snap of his hips was rapid. The room was instantly filled with the sound of flesh hitting against flesh, loud moans managing to fill in the spaces between in no contest. Paul kept his eyes on John, breathing heavy as his mind drifted between the beautiful sounds his partner made and the warm velvet heat of his tight ass he was buried so deeply in. 

"I'm...I'm gonna come!" Paul shouted. "JOHN! Fuck!" 

"Fucking come inside me!" 

"Fuck! John! Fuck!" Paul cried out in combat against his erratic thrusts and his inability to catch his breath. 

"Come for me, baby,"

"Ah! Fuck...John...yes..." Paul gave into his orgasm as his legs gave out, shaking, and he collapsed onto John in a paralyzed state. He rolled them over onto their side, his hand moving down to John's throbbing erection, giving it much needed attention.

John didn't take much longer after that, having already been so close. His release a complete mess as he moaned and called out Paul's name right into their kiss.

When they were both spent, Paul untied John's hands. John turned over so that he could face him, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. 

"That was fucking incredible. Please be that animal more often. Dominant Paul is definitely in my top three favorite Pauls."

Paul leaned forward and gave John a quick kiss on the forehead. "Well, Submissive John is definitely something that I can get behind...rather literally, actually."

John chuckled. "I love you so damn much,"

"I love you, too, always," Paul said, smiling. "I'm starting to feel like a broken record."

John laid flat, eyes paying attention to every detail of the ceiling that his mostly blind eyes could make out. "I want to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life..."

"Every single morning? Are you sure you won't get sick of me?"

"Yes and yes,"

"That is quite a commitment to be making, you know?"

"Yeah, I do, but I kinda figured we had already decided on all of this when I told you that I wanted you to tell me that you love me every single day. I just wanted to say it again."

"You are amazing,"

"I do try, but honestly I was born amazing,"

Paul playfully slugged John's shoulder, shaking his head. He had no idea what he was going to do with him.


	35. Hide Your Love

Time passed. Things continued down the original path with little deviation, in the best of ways. Brian and John were at the helm, but they still took the time to make sure all of the decisions were done as a group. 

They were all together now. An actual album had been recorded. Awareness for the band was at an all time high, and with the release of their second single it only managed to climb. The world was theirs for the taking, or at the very least, the country was.

It almost appeared that there would be no way to keep up the momentum. They didn't think it was possible to stay on top for this long. But, when their single broke the top fifty on itunes and climbed onto the billboard list they realized that they needed to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

"Why are you acting so hysterical, Paul?" John asked, watching the younger boy check the connection on Martha's leash at least five times.

"I'm not, I'm just really nervous,"

"Nervous like the first time we fooled around or nervous like you were when you sang on stage for the first time?"

"Yes,"

John raised his eyebrows. "Um...I don't understand,"

"I am as nervous as possible. We released two singles, the album is about to drop. We are supposed to make a music video. Brain wants to book us on talk shows. We are going to have to leave home and be so far from this damn state for so long. The cats, the dog, our families, I think that we might still have some friends that do not go by the names of George or Ringo."

"Yeah, I know all of that already,"

"Well, it is scary. I just keep expecting something to go wrong."

John wrapped an arm around Paul's waist and pulled him flush against him. "You do not need to be afraid of anything so long as I am around. I will be here, by your side, even if everything comes crashing down around us."

"Thank you,"

"You know that I love you and only want good things to happen where you are concerned. And yeah, this is crazy and it is a whole big step, but who the hell cares? Let's make the most of it."

Paul gave his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. "Alright, alright, I get it. Now, I want to exchange gifts with Lynda before it gets too late. Still sure that you don't want to come?"

"I would like to do that, but I don't want to go with you." John said, eyes darting down at the snow covered ground. "I'll probably just grab your dad and brother from whatever madness is happening at Yoko's and make sure they have all of their crap together for the party tonight. I think I might enjoy a conversation with your dad, actually. It has been a while."

"Thanks. That just made me more nervous."

"Get. Go. See Lynda or whatever. It is Christmas Eve! You are allowed to relax."

Paul nodded, tugging on Martha's leash before actually walking away. He looked back a few times, John was still standing there.

He was so very obviously up to something.

***

Lynda seemed more entertained by the way the large headstones looked under the overcast skies with snow highlighting their intricate details than any of the small talk that Paul had prepared. He watched her hit the shutter button on her camera furiously, always amazed at her ability to see beauty in anything.

She sat down on a bench beneath bare trees, staring out onto the frozen lake. It was barely afternoon, and yet, there was such a clear darkening on the horizon. She adjusted the settings on her camera and immediately went to work in hopes of capturing that intriguing effect.

"Lynda, you haven't said much to me since we got her. Is everything okay?"

She turned toward him slightly, tucking a stray strand of the frost blue hair behind her ear. She looked like a beautiful snow queen. "Yes and no, I guess,"

"Care to explain?" Paul paused, taking a moment to check that Martha wasn't too cold.

"I guess that I should. So, obviously you know that I love you very much. I love that we talk almost everyday and that we have this incredible connection and similar tastes and stuff. It is amazing. I would basically do anything for you." She took a deep breath, letting go of her camera so that it hung from the strap around her neck. "Well, the thing is, I haven't been one hundred percent honest with you about certain things. The reason that I stopped coming to shows was because of John. Er, well, not entirely. You see, he has an impact on things and I am rambling...I am sorry."

Paul shook his head. "No, don't be, keep going, I am listening,"

"I am in love with you, Paul. I have tried to fight it and I know that it is stupid, because you have John, but it happened. A part of me wanted to tell you before, just to get it off of my chest, but John and I actually have a slight history..."

Paul cut her off. "My god, did you also sleep with him? Neither of you thought to mention that before?"

"No, no, it is nothing like that. Wow, I didn't think that I was going to end up doing all of this confessing here. Uh, John knew me before. Linda is my name, but it isn't the name that I was born with. It was chosen by my parents though, it was a condition in order to be able to transition."

"Transition? WHAT?"

"Paul, I am a transgender woman with parents who are mostly accepting of this fact. Only a few people know. John is one of them. He had actually, uh, 'suggested' that I come out to you in terms I wasn't comfortable with prior to this, but I was much too afraid." She explained.

Paul took one of her hands and gave it a tight squeeze. "You never have to be afraid with me. You can tell me anything. That was unexpected, great job with that, you know, not that passing matters, but it does not change the way that I feel about you. You and George, and Ringo, you are my best friends. I wouldn't change any of you for all of the money in the world. You are perfect. And, I love you, too."

Lynda raised her eyebrows. "Just not in the same way that you love John, right? No Jack and Sally happy ending for these two freaks..."

"Debatable. I am definitely not planning on leaving him or creating some weird triangle out of this, but there are some feelings there."

"Speaking of your very jealous boyfriend, where is he? Why didn't he want to join us?" She asked as a gust of icy wind brushed harshly across her pale skin.

"He didn't want to come. He insisted that he wanted to talk to my dad and stop in with the crazy Yoko. Actually, he has been better with his jealousy since we have been on the road. If anything, I am the jealous one."

When Paul turned his head back toward Lynda he noticed she was covering her mouth. He wasn't sure what he had said to gain that sort of reaction.

"He wanted to talk to your dad?" She asked, uncovering her mouth for just a moment.

"Yeah, what is so interesting about that?"

"Maybe he is being proper and asking him permission for your hand?"

Paul's heart fluttered, despite how ridiculous the entire concept of Lynda's words were. "No. We haven't even been together for seven months yet. That is absolutely insane. He's nineteen, I'm sixteen. That is such a horrible idea. My dad would never allow such a thing."

"But, just because he asks your dad the question does not mean that he will ask you right away, and it isn't like the actual event would have to happen right away, either. Besides, you turn seventeen in June. It is crazy, but it is about damn time that a misfit goth queer kid from a small town got a fucking fairy tale ending."

"Holy shit,"

"Yeah, holy shit,"

"What if...no...still crazy, Lynda..."

"Duh duh da duhn,"

***

"I cannot believe you just did that. Why on earth would you ever think something like that was a good idea?" Ringo asked, looking over the railing on Jim's front porch.

John laid still in the snow for a moment, the cold temperature of the white substance acting as a temporary pain reliever for is aching back. "In my defense, it looked a lot cooler in my head. It just didn't play out as such. It was a misjudgement on my part."

Paul walked up to John, already shaking his head. "Who is more likely to give me an accurate depiction of what actually happened here?

"Me," Ringo said with a hand raised.

"That works, I was also going to say Ringo." John laughed, aware of how much damage had been done when the sound left him.

"On second thought, I don't actually want to know how this happened. I am going to take Martha inside and drink some hot chocolate while I pretend that my boyfriend is not intentionally stupid until the rest of the guests arrive and he opens his mouth to prove otherwise."

"Paul..." John began.

"Save it, John. It is fine. I just don't like seeing you get hurt."

"I didn't do it on purpose,"

"Well, you certainly could have fooled me,"

John struggled up to his feet. "Ah hush, baby, go inside and I'll be in in a moment,"

Paul rolled his eyes and walked inside. He was instantly greeted by the scent of baked goods and heavy comfort foods. This was what he had remembered from his childhood. Fond thoughts of his amazing late mother drifted back to him, forcing a smile onto his face. This was absolutely perfect. 

Mike came around the corner, reaching into one of the bags of cookies. "Hey, you're back,"

"Ha, was I not supposed to be?"

"I don't know. John just finished bringing over most of these cookies a few minutes ago. Did you know that he is using all of mom's old recipes? He is actually pretty good at the whole cooking thing." Mike laughed as he continued to stuff his face.

Paul's eyes enlarged. "Really? That is what he has been doing this whole time. I figured that he had just been goofing off."

"Nope. He went to Mimi's to grab the cookies, but before that he got right to work on making the big dinner. Uh, he did talk to Yoko for a few minutes. And then he talked to dad, and before you ask I do not know what they were talking about because they made me leave the room."

"When has that ever stopped you from listening in?"

"Sometimes I actually do what I am told. I am not terrible all of the time."

"I am going to take some more convincing on that one,"

John walked in behind them, wrapping his arms around Paul and resting his head on Paul's shoulder. "You two talking about me?"

"Maybe a little bit," Paul chuckled. "I cannot believe that you did all of this. It is amazing. I love you."

"If food is all that it takes for you to melt into my arms, I cannot wait to see how you react to your actual present." John said, pressing a quick kiss against Paul's temple.

"Dammit, John, stop being so damn perfect,"

Mike cringed. "I am walking away now. Good cookies, by the way, John."

John was smiling like a crazy person. He was excited to finally be able to execute his plan. He was going to leave Paul speechless, or at least that was the idea. He had worked ridiculously hard on setting it all up. Now, all he had to do was wait.


	36. In My Ears

Jim McCartney by no means had a large home. It felt even smaller with all of the guests, decor, and food filling the majority of the space. Friends and family were gathered together, enjoying being in each other's presence for the first time in a long time. It felt right.

"I think we better hear some carols. It has been years since the family has heard Paul play...besides with the band...since Mary passed." One of Paul's aunts said loudly. "Let's hear some! C'mon, Paul!"

"Just me? How about John, George, and Ringo join along?" Paul suggested, feeling just a little bit awkward in the situation, which was crazy since he performed in front of crowds all of the time. This was his family, however, and something about his family was different.

"I don't see why the band couldn't join in? A Christmas Beatles show, one night only, an intimate setting." John added in, placing a reassuring hand on Paul's shoulder.

"Alright! Sounds amazing!" Paul's aunt continued to speak loudly, with an extra layer of excitement. "Sing! Sing! Sing! All of you!"

Paul moved to sit down at the piano. He cracked his fingers and warmed himself up, the way his mother had taught him. John sat the opposite way on the bench, George and Ringo chose to lean on either side of the large black baby. 

"What should we sing? Any requests?" John asked the room.

Paul's hand shot up. "Preferably something I actually know how to play,"

"You mean the great Paul McCartney does not know hot to play every song on every single instrument? How absurd?" George said overdramatically.

"Quiet you," Paul mumbled.

"How about you start and then we will follow along? Then it will be something you know and it's Christmas music, it can't be that hard for us to figure out." Ringo finally opened his mouth, finding a good way to become the voice of reason.

*

Several carols later John spun around to face the piano. He wrapped an arm around Paul and rested his head on his shoulder. Completely according to plan, Ringo whipped the mistletoe he had been keeping in his pocket out. John pointed up at the plan that was above them. Paul smiled, reaching his hands up and grabbing his incredible boyfriend b the back of the head. They shared an amazing kis, much to the shock of relatives who were not quite aware of the happy couple.

Paul heard someone in the room gasp, effectively making him break the kiss as his heart dropped. He turned toward his family, face a bit flushed, unsure if he would get a chance to speak before they said something absolutely crazy.

"Okay, alright, you all can get your jaws up off of the floor. I kissed John, he is my boyfriend, that is allowed to happen. I know it is kind of a shock to find out this way, but I am happy and I love him." Paul explained, grabbing John's hand and giving it a tight squeeze. "Hopefully, you can accept, or learn to accept us, as my father has done.

John nodded. "I love him very much. I do everything that I can to make sure that he is always happy. He means the word to me. Also, not going anywhere if you get angry."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Paul whispered.

"I am here. By your side." He replied, leaning in toward him.

"Jim, you allow this?"

Jim nodded. "I do. It is not my favorite thing in the world and I was a bit apprehensive because John is older and my son being in a relationship with a man was not something I expected, but I got over it. John makes Paul happy. Far happier than I have seen him in years. So, I've decided to not let any of it bother me. John is a good person, and over these past few months I've seen a really nice change in both of them."

The room fell immediately silent. Somehow the weight of Jim McCartney's words kept anyone else from saying something that could have been deemed stupid or inappropriate. Paul and John smiled at each other, so happy to have made it to this point. It might not have been a year yet, but it was damn important. 

"Well, if it makes a difference, I think the two of you make a beautiful couple," A different aunt said. "Does explain why John is always looking at you with such love and admiration when you perform."

Paul raised his eyebrows at John.

"I love you, what else do you want me to say?"

A lighthearted chuckle in the room followed. It seemed right.

***

John waited until everyone was gone before he grabbed Paul to pull him into the quiet bedroom they occasionally shared. All of the lights were off, and the curtain was pinned to keep any extra light from the street outside to a minimum. Everything had to be perfect. This was going to be their moment.

John bent down and plugged in the long strand of icy blue icicle lights. The room was instantly illuminated by the beautifully placed bulbs. They were only complimented further by the strategically set circle of fiber optic showflakes hanging from the ceiling.

"What is all of this?" Paul whispered, grabbing John by the hand.

"Well...if you must know..." John chuckled and lead his beloved to the middle of the room. "...there is something I have wanted to ask you for a while now..."

Paul's heart fluttered. "What?"

John took Paul's other hand in his. "I love you more than anything in this entire world. I knew almost immediately after we met that I wanted to be with you. Now, I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. All I need to know now, is if you want to spend the rest of your life with me?"

Paul nodded. "Of course I do, I love you,"

"Good," John mumbled, pressing a light kiss against Paul's cheek. He bent down onto one knee and pulled out a small blue velvet ring box.

"Oh my..."

"James Paul McCartney, will you accept this ring as a promise to you, for me to love and cherish you until the end of my days?" John's voice was steady and he smiled so beautifully as he spoke the words. The gorgeous black ring just made it that much more amazing.

"Yes," Paul whispered, holding out his hand. 

John removed the ring from the box. He took Paul's left hand and slid the band onto his finger. "One day I am going to get you a better one, one that is worthy of being on your incredible hand. One day, I'll be good enough to ask you for your hand, because one day I want to marry you. Merry Christmas, my love."

"This one is worthy, it is perfect. You are so wonderful. Thank you." 

John pulled Paul into another warm embrace. "For the record, your dad thinks that I am awesome,"

Paul chuckled. "Of course you felt the need to bring that up now,"

"You do know me better than anyone else,"

***

"I am going to become a vampire," John seemed to be announcing from his spot on the floor, arms crossed over his chest as if he actually was about to rise from a coffin. 

"Is there more to this or are you just going to stop there?" Paul asked with his eyebrows raised, black painted toes only a few inches away from John's face.

John's eyes shot open. "I am going to stop there, actually. Is this mask dry yet?" He asked, acting like he might lunge forward and bite Paul's foot.

Paul dropped down onto the floor beside him and slid his hands behind his head to lift him up. He examined every inch of skin that the charcoal mask was covering, checking for any obvious damp spots. "I would give it about ten more minutes,"

"Ugh! But it is so tight!"

"That's what HE said," Ringo laughed, slapping his hand against his knee as if it really was that funny.

"Guys, seriously, I am angry wannabe vampire with a charcoal face mask on who has less than thirty minutes before he has to be on stage for a live television performance. Help me, don't make fun of me."

"You would make fun of any of us if the roles were reversed," Ringo mumbled.

"That is because I can get away with it. You all are just not as quick witted as I am."

"You are lucky that you are cute," Paul said, shaking his head at the older boy.

"Tut, tut, tut. Now, give us a kiss, won't cha?"

"No. Not with that mask on, I won't."

John rolled his eyes and sat up. "Screw you,"

"Now that, you can do with or without the mask on,"

"Is that an offer?" John asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "We've got time,"

"No! Go wash your face!" Paul demanded. 

For whatever reason, John actually listened.

"What the hell?"

Paul looked over at Ringo. "What?"

"What just happened?"

"He listened to me,"

"Exactly, how on earth did you manage that?"

"I don't know,"

"You two have been acting different, since Christmas, more lovey and bubbly, as if that was even possible. Geo and I were actually just talking about it the other day."

"Different? I hadn't noticed." Paul half mumbled, clutching at the chain that hung around his neck through his shirt where his ring remained hidden.

Ringo's eyes grew large, focusing on the mindless action his friend was doing. He walked over to him and wrenched the chain out from his shirt, exposing the black band. "Are you fucking serious!? Are you two engaged!?"

Paul yanked the chain back from Ringo. "No!"

"Sure looks like that is what is going on,"

"It is a promise ring," John said, walking out of the hotel bathroom, towel drying his face. "It isn't on his finger because for whatever reason, we are still pretending to not be a couple of faggots...despite the year."

"Could always blame the President?"

"Blech. That is not a president, that is a tangerine with hair." John groaned.

"We are rockstars, sort of, we are not allowed to have opinions," Ringo said very sarcastically.

"I have an opinion for ya," John giggled, mimicking jacking off with his left hand.

"Oh how intelligent,"

John checked the time on his phone. "We better get our asses down to sound check before that director has our heads,"

"Yeah, but where is George?" Paul asked.

"Eating, again, probably," Ringo laughed.

John shook his head. "He will meet us down there if he knows what is good for him."

There was a silent agreement among the three as they grabbed their black blazers and headed toward the elevator. This would indeed be interesting, especially if they didn't get George. 


End file.
